Not That Crazy
by 64hotrodthunderbolt
Summary: Lisbon snorted at that. "Yeah, but you're crazy." "Not that crazy." Mira whispered, brown eyes glued to Lisbon's green. Rather AUish: There's more than one mentalist in the FBI- And an old friend of Jane's to boot. How will she fit in with her new team? Rated T for mild violence/themes. If you dislike prominent OFCs, don't read. Chapter 7 up soon! Enjoy! I update, albeit slowly.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own the Mentalist and do not make money doing this. If I did, I wouldn't be freaking out about how I'm gonna get a first car in the next two or three years.**

**This is not my first fanfiction, but it is almost the first PUBLISHED one. I promised myself to not publish this till it was pretty much written…. I have the habit of not finishing things but, I hate when something I'm reading is just left hanging indefinitely, so I'm taking steps to make sure I'm not a hypocrite.**

**Be forewarned that while this also shows the progression of Jane and Lisbon's new relationship and some very serious case related plots, it DOES focus on one particular OC of mine. I got the idea from a season 7 spoiler about an intellectual equal for Jane. Naturally, this means focusing****on on the intellectual equal sometimes too. Sorry, I know, the parts about that aren't really "fan" fiction but, well, it just doesn't****make sense the other way around.**

**I hope it's not OOC...I've****always been afraid to write fanfiction because I'm really not sure if I'm any good about getting into someone else's character's head. **

**Criticism is appreciated. I really don't know if I know what I'm doing here, but this idea set up camp in my head and I can't work on my original fiction stuff till this is out of the way of my thought processes, lol.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

**Warning: Rather AU because the actual plot will probably never happen on the show. Also, since 6x24 Blue Bird, we have an established Jisbon in canon and in here, but I don't really do romance well and I want to keep this in the "clean" so...don't expect anything….you know, Jisbon-y. Not much anyway. A progression of their relationship, that I can handle, but no big M scenes or anything like that!**

**Okay, I will shut up now so you can read the story. :p**

CHAPTER ONE

Lisbon sat up slowly to smack off her alarm clock, groaning inwardly. They had to go back to work, since it was Monday, although she was torn about that. She didn't want to leave the perfect bubble she and Jane had shared over the weekend, but what Jane always said was right- "cop" was pretty much her whole identity.

She turned to Jane, unsurprised to find him staring at her with slightly unfocused eyes. She grinned. "Morning, lazybones. Who's cooking breakfast?"

Jane propped himself on one elbow. "Teresa, that just isn't fair," he chided her. "You just woke up. I've been lying awake for fifteen minutes. I'm hardly the lazy one."

Lisbon rolled out of bed quickly, and said smugly, "But I'm the first one out of bed."

He raised his eyebrows. "Touche,"

She picked up her pillow and threw it at him. "Now, out of bed and to the kitchen."

His voice was muffled by the pillow on his face. "You're very demanding."

She moved to throw another pillow, and he sat up and got out of bed. "I'm going, I'm going. No need to turn to violence. What do you want to eat?"

Lisbon paused on her way to the shower. "Hmm." she looked thoughtful for a moment. "Eggs." she finally decided. "Now I'm going to take a shower, and after we eat you can take one while I drink my coffee."

"You're also very controlling," he called to her on the way to the kitchen.

She chuckled from the bathroom door. "Bite me."

It had been six weeks since Jane had jumped a fence and chased down a plane to stop her from going to DC, and Lisbon had come back to Austin with him, to his Airstream. He'd helped her find a new apartment and unpack the stuff she'd had Marcus send her from DC.

Living in the same house with Jane was surprising to her- she hadn't expected it to be easy. She'd expected him to snoop through her stuff and move things around just to laugh when she couldn't find it.

Instead, she had found him to be a very conscientious roommate. Their preferences for housework naturally split- she hated vacuuming, but he didn't mind. He disliked dusting, which she enjoyed.

She realized that she knew him better than anyone else did, and she was...flattered. Flattered that he had chosen her to be with, to give himself to, to risk being hurt with.

Of course, she was never going to do that if she could help it, so there was nothing he could worry about there.

She hoped he knew that.

She bet she was the only one who knew he preferred to sleep on his right side as opposed to his left. She was the only one who knew that he bought eggs in two-dozen packages. She was the only one who knew he sometimes only removed his suit jacket and shoes before declaring himself ready for bed, if he'd had a long day. She was the only one who knew what brand of soap he preferred (the scent was sandalwood- she was pretty sure that was his kind of cologne too).

She was the only one who knew Patrick Jane. That was a flattering statement.

By the time she got out of the shower, Jane was putting a plate in the sink, and a covered plate sat on the kitchen table.

"You go ahead and fill that hollow leg of yours, I'll shower," he told her, brushing past her much closer than was necessary to go up the stairs.

She didn't mind.

They rode into work together- since Jane had made the announcement on a plane, well, it seemed pointless to try to keep it a secret. They stopped on the way for Lisbon to get a latte and Jane a cup of tea, and arrived at FBI headquarters right on time. Lisbon found one of the advantages of Jane wanting to ride to work with her was the fact that he could never be late if she wasn't late. And since she was never late, she never had to worry about it. She enjoyed the power of knowing that, perhaps a bit more than she should have, but she didn't care. Jane was so hard to control, that any semblance of controlling him was a thrilling thought indeed.

The moment Jane and Lisbon came into the building, they were cornered by Abbott. "Agent Lisbon, Jane, my office. Now." he turned on his heel and started off, expecting them to follow. After trading glances, they did.

"Okay, Jane, what did you do?" Lisbon demanded, as they walked after their boss.

Jane held his hands up in defense, grinning despite himself. "Lisbon, please, I'm wounded!" he placed a hand over his heart dramatically. "Of course I didn't do anything!"  
>"You keep that up and you will be wounded," Lisbon grumbled.<p>

Jane chuckled. "I am serious though, Lisbon. I didn't do anything this time."

"Sure?" she asked, still skeptical.

"Cross my heart," Jane promised.

"And that means so much, coming from you," Lisbon muttered.

This time he might have looked genuinely hurt. Lisbon still wasn't quite sure of how to tell when he was acting and when he wasn't. "Lisbon," was all he said but she could hear the hurt in his tone, and the implication. '_how could you say that?'_

"I'm sorry Jane, but you still have some trust earning to do." She told him, forcing herself not to melt and apologize for doubting him, which was hard not to do when he looked at her like that.

"Yes Agent," he mocked lightly, as they brushed into their bosses' office.

Cho, Fisher, and Wiley were already present, standing on one side of the room. Jane and Lisbon made their way to the other members of their team, and waited for the purpose of the meeting to happen.

Lisbon's eyes landed on a woman seated in a chair that was pushed against one wall opposite the rest of the team. She was wearing a very unbusinesslike, though modest, bell-sleeved dress with a high neck, and looked rather plain, with brown eyes and hair. Lisbon sized her up, guessing she was maybe an inch or two taller than herself, if that. She caught herself in the middle of the size up and wondered why she was doing it- it wasn't as if this woman was a suspect. _Cop instincts,_ she thought finally.

"Don't worry, Agent Lisbon," the strange woman grinned at Lisbon, "This little gathering isn't about anything Patrick did. I'm afraid I'm mostly the cause."

The Agents traded slightly bewildered glances. Lisbon's eyes narrowed as she stared back at the woman, whose grin grew wider under the scrutiny. She gave Lisbon a three-finger wave, and Lisbon resisted the urge to huff in annoyance. Luckily, Abbott started the meeting and ended the encounter for the time being.

"Agents," Abbott began, from his seat behind his desk, "as you may know, the crime rate the FBI has to deal with is pretty high. Even at the rate Jane closes the cases, we can't keep up with the amount of things happening. That's why we're adding another team to your division."

"You mean- we have to split the work on our cases?" Fisher asked, looking mildly horrified at the whole teamwork idea.

Abbott smirked. "If you see fit to do so, you may, but I was thinking more along the lines of splitting the caseload."

Fisher nodded. "Right, sir."

"You two teams can decide among yourselves who takes what case, depending on your expertise or, whatever you want to use to decide, but try to be fair. We don't want any one team trying to get out of more cases than the other. This is not a competition or an invitation to try and best each other, this is a serious attempt to solve more cases. That means working together. The point is we save more lives and put away more bad guys. Understood?"

Everyone in the room nodded, except for the woman on the other side of the room, who merely watched the proceedings with an unreadable expression on her face. Lisbon thought she might have looked vaguely amused, but she wasn't sure.

"Now then," Abbott began, smiling a little as he handed each of the agents a folder, "These are the files on the agents who'll make up the new team. Feel free to read them- the agents should be here shortly. And this," Abbott gestured to the woman on the other side of the room, "is the consultant for the new team, Mira Colburn."

She smiled at the other agents and nodded to them. "The pleasure is mine," she said amiably.

Lisbon thought there was something oddly familiar about that smile. It was like the one Jane used when he met the families of the victims- charming, but friendly, and meant to pull you into his trust.

She cast a sidelong glance at Jane. trying to see what he thought, but of course, he didn't have a readable expression on his face.

"Mira here has a law enforcement background. She used to be a professional mentalist, and we thought having two Janes around would make things go faster," Abbott said. "She consulted for the CIA in the past; she's currently here on leave from-"

"Oh, please, Dennis, nobody cares where I come from. All the boring literature about myself is in those files over there, and as far as I'm concerned, there it can remain. Don't you agree?" she turned her smile on to Lisbon, Jane, and the rest of the team.

Jane chuckled. "If I thought you needed the help, I'd be cheering you on."

"Hello, Patrick. Long time no see," Mira grinned.

"Mira," Jane acknowledged her with a smile. "When was the last time- 1997, if my memory palace serves me correctly."

"It does." Mira answered. "It was right here in Texas, too. Amarillo, I do believe." Mira had a southern accent- Lisbon thought she'd heard it before but she couldn't quite place the geographical location it came from.

"You two know each other?" Lisbon asked, hoping she didn't look as surprised as she felt.

Mira nodded, turning her attention on Lisbon. "Oh, of course, Agent Lisbon. We used to work crowds together sometimes, when he was a con man and I was a mentalist."

"You were a mentalist." Lisbon repeated, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. Of course Abbott has said the same thing a few minutes ago but somehow it seemed so much more shocking when the woman herself said it.

Mira chuckled. "Well, I _am _a mentalist… and so's he. So, I guess now it's us against the FBI, hey, Patrick?"

Jane nodded, still smiling. "Yes, I suppose it is. Nice to have someone on my side."

Before Mira could respond, two agents walked into the office, one somewhat uncertainly, the other with a little too much bravado.

"Ah, Agents Conlon and Meller. Good to have you. I'd like to introduce you to Agents Lisbon, Cho, and Fisher, and our tech, Wiley. This their consultant, Patrick Jane." Jane nodded and smiled to the two newcomers. "And this is your new consultant, Mira Colburn." Mira greeted them in much the same way as Jane.

Abbott turned to his Agents. "This is Special Agent Amy Meller and Agent Rudy Conlon. They'll be making up the team that Colburn will be consulting for."

"Team? More like a Dynamic Duo," Jane said.

"The more difficult cases are going to be yours," Meller said. "We'll be taking care of the smaller ones."

"I thought we were going to decide how to split the cases 'fairly among ourselves', not by difficulty without consulting us first," Lisbon said, already ruffled by the take charge attitude of Amy Meller.

"We decided to make the decision for you." she smiled a professional sort of smile. "Saves time."

"Well, Amy, Agent Lisbon here is quite in the right you know," Mira said smoothly, flashing one of the most charming smiles Lisbon had seen outside of Jane. "Your personal problems must be most frustrating, and I'm certain you and your husband will reach a treaty in the near future, but you needn't take your frustrations out in a power trip. After all, you are their guest, not the other way around."

Lisbon resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The last thing she wanted was another Jane walking around reading people and causing trouble.

Meller's eyes cut to Mira. "I am Agent Meller to you, Colburn." she said coldly. "I'm also your handler, so be very careful where you step."

Mira raised her hands in placating gesture. "Alright, alright, no need to get all worked up over it. Just trying to be friendly," she backpedaled. "And- was that a threat?" she looked from Meller to Jane, and back to Meller.

"It did sound like one," Jane said, helpfully.

Lisbon elbowed him in the ribs.

"Best to watch your step, Mrs. Meller," Mira said, purposefully refusing to say "Agent". "I might call the CTC on you."

"CTC?" repeated Fischer. She didn't want to get into the fight, but she'd never heard of that acronym before.

"Cruelty to Consultants." Mira chuckled.

Fisher grinned in spite of herself. Jane chuckled, and this time Lisbon didn't stop her impulsive eye roll.

Anyone else would have melted under the death glare Agent Meller was sending Mira's way, but she just stood there, grinning and looking perfectly calm and cheerful… and mischievous.

"Yes, well…" Abbott cleared his throat and recaptured the attention of those present in the room. "Meller and her team will be residing in the bullpen on the other side of the break room, which you'll be sharing. When a case comes in, you'll have to decide who takes it, if neither of you currently have one. Is everyone clear?"

They all nodded, some more reluctantly than others.

"Good," Abbott smiled. "You're all dismissed. Lisbon, Cho, Fisher, Wiley, and Jane- go on to whatever it is you're doing this morning. Meller, Conlon, Colburn- come with me, I'll help you set up." He led the two Agents and the consultant from the room. Mira paused in front of Jane. "Patrick, we may have to stop and catch up sometime, but now isn't the time, so I'll catch you on the proverbial flip flop. Stay in trouble," she added with a wink and a grin, before disappearing around the corner.

She poked her head back in a second later to say, "I do believe we can obtain a certain amount of unfettered amusement from our new friend Amy. What do you say?"

Jane grinned back at her. "Oh, well, we'll have to see where it goes," he said vaguely. Mira seemed to recognize that as some kind of code, rather than the innocent sounding statement it was, and nodded a little too eagerly.

Uh oh. Lisbon had seen that sparkle in his eyes before. She had a feeling she should be very worried.

"Miss Colburn! If you're through socializing, some of us actually have to work for a living." the annoyed voice of Agent Meller came from the other bullpen.

Mira's grin got impossibly wider. "By all means," she drawled, with what might have been a charming accent if she wasn't plotting against an FBI agent. "See you in the breakroom, Patrick. Maybe I'll even put the kettle on for you."

And with that she disappeared around the corner again.

Cho was the first to speak. "Great. There's two of them."

Fischer grinned. "She's kind of...cute."

Wiley nodded. "Um, yeah, cute. Actually, maybe, pretty would be more like it."

"Pretty annoying, you mean." Lisbon huffed. "The world isn't ready for another Jane."

"She's not another me," Jane laughed. "Trust me, she's quite different, once you get to know her."

"That's the thing that scares me," retorted Lisbon. "That thing she was doing, I've seen you get punched in the nose for doing that a million times. I don't need two consultants to run after with ice packs." She could just imagine the horrors that might occur if the both of them ever worked together.

Jane turned to leave. "Well, she's not actually your consultant, she's Meller's. You have nothing to be concerned about."

"What thing?" Wiley asked.

Lisbon followed Jane out of Abbott's office and into the bullpen. "She cold read Agent Meller and then riled her up with what she found out to see what kind of reaction she'd get."

"Why, Lisbon, I'm impressed," Jane said. "I didn't know you kept up with the terminology of my profession. A gold star for you."

"Shut up, Jane," she retorted, but she was smiling.

"So… what's that?" Wiley wanted to know.

"What's what?" said Fischer, as she sat down behind her desk.

"What's cold reading?"

"It's a technique used by mentalists and fake psychics. Without prior knowledge of the person being read, a practiced cold reader can quickly obtain a lot of information about the person from their body language, age, clothing or fashion, hairstyle, gender, sexual orientation, religion, race or ethnicity, level of education, manner of speech… you know, simple things that you're not supposed know unless they've told you." Jane laid down on his couch while he spoke, finishing with his eyes closed and his hands clasped across his chest, raising one in a dismissive wave as though what he'd just described was uninteresting and normal.

"Wow." Wiley said, sitting down slowly in his chair and looking awestruck. "That's so cool!"

Jane opened one eye to study him. "Meh, it's not too hard. Just takes practice."

"Can you teach me?"

Jane shook his head. "No...no, you're don't have the mental stamina," Jane said, trying to sound thoughtful even though he'd probably already analyzed everything he could about Wylie.

"Hmm. Oh well," Wylie said, sounding unconcerned and already moving on to the next thing, which was apparently booting up his computer.

Fischer sat down and began reading the Agents' files.

"Agent Conlon is a rookie," she remarked, without looking up. "This is his first job with the FBI."

"I knew that," Jane said.

"He didn't seem nervous," Lisbon said, thinking over her brief encounter with the agent. She would have had to admit, however, that she hadn't paid much attention to him. She'd been too caught up in the novelty that was Mira Colburn, and the annoying take charge attitude of Special Agent Meller.

"He was pretty nervous," Cho said, in his usual monotone.

"You wouldn't have noticed," Jane said to Lisbon. "You were too caught up in being mad at Meller."

Lisbon scowled at him. "Wouldn't you?"

"She doesn't bother me. It won't take much to make her see things our way."

"Jane," Lisbon warned. "Leave her alone."

"Of course," he agreed, much too quickly.

"I mean it Jane," said Lisbon. "I don't care if she irks you or not. She's off limits. She has way more seniority than either of us and she's a top agent with the FBI. The last thing I need is you playing mind games with her."

"Why? It would be Abbott's problem anyway, not yours. And besides, who said I'd be the one playing mind games with her?"

The full realization of the situation came to Lisbon at that moment. "Oh, God. Where did any of this come from anyway? I mean, I know there's been a lot of cases lately but are we really far behind enough to warrant another team?"

Jane shrugged. "I figured as much. There was no way we could keep up the pace we've been going at effectively. And when I heard Mira was in the building a few days ago, well, that pretty much confirmed my suspicions."

"And you didn't bring it up?" Fischer grumbled.

"No," Jane said, much too brightly for Lisbon's tastes. "You would have been worrying about it all the time if I had, and then we'd never have solved the case."

"When did you hear about Mira?" Lisbon demanded. "This was all news to me."

Jane shrugged, saying, "Abbott really should close the office door before making secret phone calls. Much too easy to stand in the hallway and pretend to make small talk with people while listening in."

"So now you spy on our boss," Lisbon said dryly. "I'm sure that would go over well."

"Maybe, but he'll never know."

Lisbon shook her head in resignation. He was right about that- Abbott couldn't read Jane and she certainly wasn't going to say anything.

"Well," Lisbon sighed, "it's not like we have a case right now anyway. I guess I'll read about this mysterious Mira. I'm actually just in shock. I was under the impression that you were one of a kind," she said, directing the last bit to Jane.  
>"No, no, mentalism is a skill. A complicated and rare skill, but a skill just the same." he answered.<p>

There was silence for a moment, filled only by the rustle of papers and click of keyboards, before Lisbon found a folder with "Mira Colburn, Consultant" printed on it. She picked it up, thumbed it open and frowned. "Jane, it's empty," she said in apparent wonderment.

"I doubt that," Jane said carelessly.

"It has her picture and her name and date of birth, and her specialty but….. that's really about it," Lisbon admitted, turning the single sheet of paper over in her hands.

Jane glanced in her direction. "She's a very private person." he said pointedly.

Lisbon nodded. "I can see that," she said. She picked up a different file. "Okay, then here's Agent Meller," she said, flipping it open to find a normal file, and beginning to read.

Jane sat up on his couch. "Anyone want to bet on how long it'll take for us to get a case we can fight over?"

Lisbon and Cho groaned when Wiley took the bet for five bucks, but otherwise, he was left unchallenged.

"Hmm. Good luck to you, Wiley," he said, clapping the younger man a little too hard on the shoulder, "and now I think I'll get some tea."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here's the next chapter! I promise to get some excitement going on in the third chapter. I just needed to set things up. ;)**

**I won't hold chapters ransom for reviews, but I do appreciate them. :)**

CHAPTER TWO

When Jane entered the break room a half hour later, he found the kettle already on, and about to boil; and the form of Mira Colburn on the floor on her knees, digging around in one of the cabinets under the counter.

"Hey Patrick," she greeted him without turning around. She seemed to have a sixth sense as to who was behind her, without even looking. Then again, so did he, he thought.

"Hey," he said. He took a tea cup out of a cabinet and poured some milk from the fridge into it. "What are you doing?"

"Ah am searching for a glass vessel of some sort to serve mah purposes." Her voice echoed out of the cabinet she had her head stuck in, and her words were punctuated with random clanks and plings. Her accent sounded as though it was over-accentuated in the echo.

"Any luck?" He asked her, beginning the process of dunking the tea bags into his cup.

"Not quite, but Ah do retain confidence…" she answered. A moment later, she gave a triumphant cry, and backed out of the cabinet. "Here we are," she said, placing a glass pitcher with green polka dots all over it on the counter above her head. She unceremoniously pitched everything back into the cabinet and slammed the doors shut before it could all fall out.

She stood up quickly and brushed herself off. "Whoever attempts to enter that cabinet next, had best watch out for the lower half of their anatomy," she observed dryly, turning to Jane with a slight smirk.

"What are you going to do with that?" he asked, gesturing to the glass pitcher and throwing away his used tea bags.

"Tea of course," she chuckled. "Not that idiosyncratic concoction you favor so well. Just good old fashioned iced tea. My new… office, it seems, has a lovely window sill with enough sun to start a tanning booth. Perfect place for sun tea production." She explained, all the while busy with her preparations. She found a bottle of dishwashing liquid in a cabinet, washed the pitcher in the sink, and filled it with water. She opened the cabinet Jane kept his tea bags in, and pulled out a long forgotten box stuffed in the back. Green tea- no flavors, just generic green tea. She pulled five bags out of the box, dropped them into the water, and left the strings draped over the edge of the pitcher.

"There," she said, sounding satisfied. "I proclaim this tea ready to brew." With that she marched into the second bullpen. Jane wandered after her, sipping his tea, and smiling to himself. Yes, maybe she had lived through hell on earth more than once, but even though she was less stable than she used to be, she was still Mira Colburn. The same Mira that made fun of his tea and touted her own southern based concoctions. The same Mira that came bustling into a room on a mission, pulled out every big word she knew and bustled out again, all the while busy with something, while still trying to read everybody she passed on the side simply for her own amusement. The same Mira that… was currently standing on her tip toes on her desk to reach the sill that cut through the middle of the floor to ceiling window of the bullpen.

"Careful," he warned automatically.

She glanced over her shoulder and grinned at him. "If I planned on falling it would have already occurred," she said.

He smiled, nodding. "Yes, yes I suppose it would have."

Having balanced the pitcher in a way that she deemed satisfactory, she jumped lightly from the desk and sat down on top of it. "I'm rather surprised at you, Patrick," she remarked. "You having a desk job with the FBI. It's not exactly what I'd call a Jane family trait."

"Yeah, well… I don't actually have a choice. It's this or jail."

"I see," she said. "I sympathize greatly with your dilemma. I've been experiencing similar… issues."

"It's either here or a psychiatric ward, huh?" he asked softly.

"Precisely."

They were silent for a moment.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Now what?" Jane decided to play dumb.

"Now that Red John is permanently eradicated." she explained, although he was sure she knew that he knew what she meant.

He thought about that one for a moment, and then he sighed. "Not really." he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "But it was…. it was my fault. And it didn't bring them back. But it was all I could do."

She nodded silently.

"Would you have done it that way?" the question even surprised himself.

"No." she said honestly. "I'd have developed a distinct hatred for his proverbial guts, but I'd still have hated to go that far. I may have entertained the idea, but it wouldn't have become reality."

"Hm." he didn't really have any response for that.

"Then again," she added, "I have only a vague idea of what you lost. The two most important people in your life, at that same time…. I have no idea what that's like."

"Hell," he said.

She smiled wryly. "I can imagine. I've dealt with that before."

He crossed his arms and leaned back a little. "So, I ran away from the only good things left in my life, and sold my soul to the government for five years. What a solution."

"Only five years?" she repeated.

"I only need to be here for five years. But, well, I'll probably be here a lot longer."

She looked out the window. "As for my own fate, it's here until one of us retires- me, or Doctor Jekyll." She chuckled. "Of course you remember him- the short bald gentleman, with the ill-fitting suit who was rather quick to diagnose things?" Jane nodded. She glanced away, a wry smile on her face again."I hope he goes first with everything I have to hope with." Then she smiled widely. "I find this a fantastic alternative to my other options, however. Are you happy with it?"

"Yeah, I'm happy. The detention suite wasn't as awful as prison was, but…"

"It was lacking in one Teresa Lisbon," Mira finished the sentence for him.

He glanced up sharply, causing Mira to laugh. "Oh, don't you worry, you have not lost your touch. You're still as much of a closed book as ever. Teresa, on the other hand- will she do anything radical if I call her Teresa?" she interrupted herself.

Jane let out a bark of laughter. "She'll get used to it eventually,"

"Lovely," Mira said. "Well, Teresa- she's the equivalent of a walking, talking billboard, if you know what I mean."

"That's what I tell her, all the time. It seems to annoy her," he observed.

"Well, congratulations, Patrick. You deserve another chance. And what a chance it is, too."

"She is," he agreed. "I just hope I don't screw this one up."  
>"You won't," Mira said. "She can't be scared away, Patrick. She's in this for the long haul, and if you are too, you don't have anything to worry about again,"<p>

He looked at her for a moment, purposefully allowing her to see the gratitude in his expression, because he didn't know what to say.

She shrugged it off. "The larger the personal stakes, the harder the read. Common knowledge, really. I'm just an objective third party; you might as well hear my side of things." She pushed herself off the desk and started out of the room. She paused at the door and glanced back. "You're welcome though," she said.

"Now what are you up to?" he asked.

"Dennis has the epitome of tedium awaiting me- paperwork," she grinned, sweeping out of the room gracefully.

Come to think of it, Jane had never seen her do anything ungracefully.

It really did mean something to him that she had bothered to tell him she thought Lisbon was "in it for the long haul". He may have defaulted to smug and cocky, but that didn't mean it was all he was. He worried that he would hurt her again- of course, he probably would hurt her again. That much he knew. But if he did, would she leave? When would she finally run out of forgiveness for him? Heck, she'd forgiven him for things he hadn't even forgiven himself for yet. Probably would never be able to.

He knew he didn't deserve her. He knew she deserved someone who wasn't going to hurt her. Someone who wasn't a fraud, a murderer, a failure in many past departments.

All his past girls were either dead or clinically insane. What a track record, he thought bitterly. When would she wake up and realize what she could have instead? He dreaded the day, but he'd been convinced it was coming eventually. He'd thought it best to stay away from her altogether, but he found he was too selfish for that. He couldn't survive without her. So he settled for the next best thing: Take what you can while you can. Except that meant living everyday with the fear of that day being THE day, in the back of his mind.

It was only six words. Uttered by an old friend he'd not seen or heard from in years. But they meant something, because Mira was never wrong. Neither was he, when personal matters weren't at stake, but she was as objective as could be in her reading of the situation.

And he realized why keeping up the whole "friends outside of work" thing might have been worth his time after all. Except, of course, now he didn't have to, because Mira wasn't outside of work.

"Mr. Jane?" a formal voice inquired.

"Yes?" he looked up from his thoughts.

"Do you have particular reason for being in here?"

Well, Mira was gone for the time being so, he guessed not. He could be bored and hope someone got murdered on his couch just as well as Mira's desk. "No, I was just… I'll be on my way now."

Special Agent Meller nodded her consent and turned around to walk to her desk, laptop bag in tow.

"Where's Agent Conlon?"

"Breakroom." she answered him shortly, flipping her laptop open on her desk and plugging it in.

"Thank you," he said, offering her his most charming , make-the-woman's-knees-weak smile.

She glanced up at him, and he saw a slight shimmer of... something… in her eyes before she gave him a curt nod and returned to the task at hand.

Hmm. Maybe, there was hope for Agent Meller.

He went into the break room and found Agent Rudy Conlon- the other half the of "Dynamic duo" as he had deemed them. He was making a pot of coffee.

Jane leaned on the door frame, sipping his tea. "What is it with cops and their coffee?" he wondered out loud.

Conlon started violently and whirled around. "Oh, Mr. Jane," he breathed, seeing who was behind him with a mix of relief and confusion. "Hi."

"Hi," Jane answered. He straightened and came into the room. "So, this your first job at the FBI?"

"Yes, sir," he said.

"Please, drop the 'sir' jazz," Jane said easily. "I'm either Jane or Patrick. Take your pick."

"Okay then… Jane," Conlon tried the name out.

"Can I call you Rudy?" Jane asked.

Rudy Conlon stared at him. "How'd-"

"I'm observant," said Jane, answering before the kid could get it all out.

"...Umm, that's not…. very professional," the young agent stammered.

Jane shrugged carelessly. "Professional Shemshinal. Not really important."

The young man nodded. "Okay, I guess," he said.

Jane smiled brightly and clapped him hard on the back. "Rudy it is then. See you later, Rudy!" and with that, he was gone from the break room, knowing full well how confused the poor kid must have been at that point, and enjoying it to boot.

He came strolling back to his couch, and sat down, just in time to see Mira deposit a piece of paper on the cushion beside him. She sat daintily on the edge of the arm and held a pen out to him.

He wondered, distractedly, where she'd come from. He gave up on that line of thought immediately though. He knew from past experience, that it was fruitless to ponder the subject.

"Would you be so kind as to grace this form with your signature, Patrick?" Mira smiled.

He took the pen, balancing what remained of his tea on his knee as he picked up the paper. "And what have we here?" he asked, scanning the paper.

Her finger appeared in his line of sight, pointing to a blank line somewhere near the bottom of the page, where her own flowering script showed her signature. "This space here is where you sign."

Eyeing her warily for a minute, he decided to see what happened, and signed his name on the line. The paper and pen were removed from his hands almost instantly, and she stood, still smiling at him. "Much obliged," she said, turning to go.

"Mira, come on," he wheedled. "Tell me what it is I've agreed to,"

Lisbon looked up at the two from her desk, and Fischer also turned her attention from her work. Wylie wasn't in the room, and Cho was completely uninterested- in other words, Mira and Jane both knew the audience wouldn't get bigger.

Mira grinned. "I've just appointed you my… next of kin, shall we say, in case of medical emergencies."

Jane blinked at her, for once at a loss for words.

Mira rolled her eyes. "Come now, Patrick, you should know better. You're the only person here with whom I've ever been well-acquainted, and trust almost completely. Of course I'd pick you."

Lisbon interrupted. "Don't you have any real family to list?" Jealously tinted her words a bit, Jane noted, biting back a smile at her possessive aura.

Mira waved a dismissive hand. "Lord knows what has happened to my father, my grandparents are dead, I'm an only child, and my parents had no siblings." she said breezily.

"What about your mother?" Fischer asked, curious more than accusing.

Mira shrugged, chuckling a bit. "She's dead, but we still keep in touch," she explained, as she turned to march out the door.

Lisbon turned a half-puzzled glare on Jane. "They still keep in touch?"

Jane laughed. "I think that was one of her figures of speech," he said.

"How is claiming to talk with someone who's dead a figure of speech?" Fischer wanted to know.

"She used to pretend to be insane, so she had free room and board in a mental hospital." Jane said. "Every once in a while, she says something like that just to keep people on their toes."

Lisbon looked like a fish out of water. "She….. she pretended to be insane…. just for free stuff?"

"Yeah," Jane said, looking as though he didn't understand what she was so worked up about. He did, of course- it did sound pretty crazy- but he knew also knew why she'd done it, and Lisbon didn't. That was the scale tipper.

"Why would she do that?" Cho asked from his side of the room, when it appeared Lisbon was beyond asking.

"That's something she'd have to tell you," Jane said firmly. "It isn't my place."

Outside the bullpen, Mira Colburn smiled to herself. "It is nice to have a friend," she murmured, as she walked back to her desk.

"We have a case!" yelled Agent Meller, waving a file folder in the air as she stepped forward from behind her desk.

Within minutes, all of Team One, as they had now been dubbed, had circled around her; and Mira and Rudy were not far behind.

"Who gets it?" Cho asked. Straight to the point. Meller smirked inwardly. She liked Cho. No nonsense, no wasted words.

"I was hoping you might have some insight on that." She fixed Lisbon with a pointed stare. "Since you weren't open to my ideas earlier,"

It had been two days of having two teams- two days of waiting for a case, two days of Mira and Jane doing what she called "catching up" as Mira put it (although there was little chatting involved), and two days of Meller and Lisbon glaring at each other from across hallways and rooms. Jane's personal favorite had been when they both went into the break room to refill their coffee at the same time. They had both stomped out, empty cups in hand, and refused to go back in for hours. Jane had taken pity on Lisbon and brought her a full cup, but when he'd asked Mira about helping Agent Meller, she had waved a dismissive hand and said carelessly, "Oh, allow them to work through it their own way. It will eventually work out, and in the meantime, it is rather amusing to watch."

Now, Jane smiled to himself as Lisbon returned the pointed stare. He knew he shouldn't enjoy this so much but he didn't care. Lisbon was cute when she was mad. His Angry Little Princess.

"If I may offer my suggestion?" Mira's voice came from somewhere behind him.

"Colburn?" Meller's voice always seemed to become even more lifeless when addressing Mira, if that was possible. Jane sometimes wondered.

"Perhaps we might flip a coin," she suggested.

"Flip a coin, Colburn? This is not a game. This is a case. We do not flip coins," Meller said sternly.

Mira squeezed in between Jane and Lisbon, smiling disarmingly. "Now now, Missus Meller," she began, "We have already come to the indisputable conclusion that splitting caseloads based upon the difficulties of said case in unacceptable, and as the aforementioned case is not unusual or unique in any way, expertise is not a valid decision maker. That leaves us with only three fair options: A game of poker, a round of eenie meenie miney moe, or we toss a coin. I was under the impression that you abhorred gambling and the eenie meenie business seemed below you, so naturally, we must toss a coin."

Jane could almost feel Lisbon's shock radiating off of her. Even if she did dislike Meller, she kept a grudging respect placed firmly between them and refrained from telling it like it was when speaking to the other agent. Meller returned the favor.

Mira, on the other hand, was known for using politeness as an insult, and apparently did not hold a grudging respect for Meller. It was a pity, Jane thought, considering that she worked directly under her and could get herself fired doing that. Of course that had never stopped him before so he doubted it would stop her.

Meller stared Mira down for several, long seconds. She glared, and Mira just…. stood there, waiting for an answer, looking unaffected.

"Very well," she said finally. Jane grinned in spite of himself.

"I have a coin for you toss," he said, stuffing a hand into his pocket.

"No, thank you, Patrick. She doesn't trust you, and she'll be convinced that you've cheated." Mira patted him on the arm in a consoling fashion before holding a hand out to Cho. "May we confiscate a quarter for our endeavors, Cho? We do promise to behave."

Cho crossed his arms. "Why me? Why not Lisbon?"

"I fear that would not be wise. She likes you, Cho, and anyone can see that you wouldn't cheat," Mira explained.

"Lisbon's honest. She wouldn't cheat," Cho said.

"You and I are both well versed in that knowledge, Cho, but our fearless leader here is not," she gestured vaguely in the direction of the now impatient Meller.

"You can't have my quarter," said Cho.

"Not even if I promise not to spend it on a pack of gum?" questioned Mira wearily.

"Pay me back double and it's a deal," was the answer.

Mira smiled widely and closed her fingers around the quarter that was dropped into her hand when she nodded her assent.

"Let's toss it, shall we?" Jane asked, reaching for it.

"Ah," Mira exclaimed, pulling it out of his reach, "Perhaps it would be prudent to first explain the details of the case to the other parties present before we toss?"

Rudy stood up, from his position on the desk beside Meller, and said, "I'll do it, boss."

Meller nodded once, and he began, "A woman was found dead outside a funeral home a few miles from here, and a car that looks like a tree fell on it was parked a few feet away."

"That all we know so far?" Lisbon asked, switching into her "cop mode" as Jane liked to put it.

"Yes ma'am," Rudy said instantly.

"You may toss that coin now," Meller said, sounding impatient.

"It would be my pleasure," Mira chuckled. She tossed the coin high into the air. "Call it, somebody."

"Heads," Exclaimed Jane.

"Tails," Rudy added unnecessarily.

The coin landed on the palm of its thrower's hand, heads side up.

"My my, Patrick," Mira drawled. "Lady Luck is indeed smiling upon you today," as she pushed the quarter into her pocket.

"Hey, what about my fifty cents?" Cho demanded.

Mira smiled. "Dear me, I'd nearly forgotten," she said, and then she clapped her hands together once, and turned them so that they were parallel to the floor. When she lifted one hand, a fifty cent piece lay on the palm of her other hand. She held it out toward Cho. "Here you are,"

"How'd you do that?" he asked, taking the coin and stuffing it into his pants pocket.

Her smile widened. "A lady never tells, Mister Cho," she said grandly.

"Agents," a familiar voice was added to the chaos. "Have you decided whose case this one is?"

"We're taking it," Lisbon informed him.

"Good. That means this case," he held a file out to Agent Meller, "is all yours."

Mira intercepted the folder and thumbed it open. Her eyes widened, and Jane couldn't tell if it was in honest surprise or just to make Meller jealous because she hadn't gotten the folder first.

"Goodness. My apologies," she said, after several moments of silence, holding the folder to Agent Meller, who snatched it away.

"Dear me, there is no call to be so grabby," Mira grumbled, flexing her hand. "I dare say you've given me a paper cut."

"We have another case already?" came Fischer's voice from somewhere in the back of the clan. Jane would've had to admit he'd nearly forgotten about everyone standing behind him- of course, "everyone" only mounted to Fischer and Wylie, but still.

"Yes. Which is precisely why we now have two teams." Abbott scanned the room. "You all seem to be getting along well…." he eyes came to rest on Meller. "Agent Meller. Loosen up," he advised, smirking at her obvious discomfort before striding away.

"What's in yours?" Jane whispered in Mira's ear. He saw Lisbon leaning towards them to catch what he said and leaned away from her, pushing Mira to one side and causing Lisbon to scowl at him. He grinned at her.

"It… appears to be a young lady who had an unfortunate encounter with a hatchet," Mira said carefully.

"How young?"

Mira shook her head and started to walk away.

He caught her arm. "It's not your job to protect me," he whispered. He couldn't read her- he never had been able to- and he knew she couldn't read him, but he didn't have to, to know what she was doing.

Mira's brown eyes flicked over to Lisbon and back to him. "Trust me. You don't need this."

He stared at her for a moment. "Is it…" he couldn't say it.

"The… similarities are striking," she said, averting her eyes, before pulling her arm free and sweeping out of the room on the heels of Rudy.

The similarities were striking?

She wouldn't say how young, and the similarities were striking, and she looked at Lisbon while she said it.

It must have been a young girl. A little girl who looked like… like Charlotte. And a hatchet?

He was suddenly very glad that they hadn't gotten that case. Sleep didn't elude him quite as effectively now as it used to, but he didn't need to go dredging up old ghosts.

He jumped when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. "Jane? You okay?"

"Yes. Fine. Never better," he said quickly, mentally cursing himself for getting lost in a swirl of memories for even a few seconds.

"What did she say?" Lisbon asked softly.

"I… she said that… it was too similar to… something else." his instinct was to lie, but Lisbon was Lisbon, and he was trying to learn not to hide from her. Twelve years of hiding beat six weeks of being with Lisbon, but he was still trying.

"Oh," Lisbon said, apparently understanding.

Even if she didn't have anything else to say, it was nice that someone else understood every now and then, he decided.

Fischer chose that moment to stick her head back in. "You guys coming?"

"Yeah," Jane said, resting a hand on the small of Lisbon's back and guiding her out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Tomorrow is Monday, which equals school. So no guarantee on how quick the fourth chapter is coming but it is in the works.**

**Answer to some of the reviews, albeit belatedly:**

**Elc41: Thank you! I was worried about having a main OC because a lot of people don't seem to like them. I do, but that doesn't mean a whole lot in this case. :p It seems people do like the concept after all.**

**LouiseKurylo: Thank you very much! I was hoping to draw people in with that. I'm glad you like their interactions- there'll be a ton more, as well as with the others, of course. Hmm, yes, the silly typos... I do attempt to proof read, but writing and posting a chapter in one day means mistake are bound to happen I suppose. ;)**

**make-mine-a-kiaora, ****MissDonnie: Thank you very much! 3**

CHAPTER THREE

When they walked onto the crime scene, the first thing they saw was the body of a woman, laying on the ground in front of a funeral home.

The second thing they saw was a car with four flat tires and the roof smash flat sitting a few feet away on the curb.

The owner of the funeral home was in a terrible state, wringing his hands together and hopping from one foot to the other, like an agitated grasshopper. Lisbon took an immediate dislike to him. "I didn't see it till this morning, and I have no idea what's going on. I've never seen the car or the girl before and if this is somebody's idea of a joke, so help me, I'll-" he was saying to the local police chief when they walked up.

"Hey, you can't come in here," yelled a police officer, when they got close to the yellow tape.

"We're FBI," Cho said, displaying a badge to the officer. "We can go just about anywhere we want." He stepped under the tape, holding it up for the others to walk under.

"I'm Aaron Martin, I run this funeral home," called a short, balding man who came waddling up to them. When they came to a stop a few feet away from the body, he shook hands with Lisbon and Cho, but completely ignored Fischer. Jane had already begun to do his… whatever you called it; Lisbon still didn't know… and was circling the body, so the little man went nowhere near him. He just returned to hopping and wringing.

"We got an ID?" Lisbon asked the police chief.

"Catalyn July, 37 years old. Lives a few blocks from here," the man said. He shook his head. "I knew her, she was one of the sweetest girls you ever met. Sweet, but brash. You didn't mess with Catie," he smiled sadly. "She was a nurse."

Jane was circling the body, and he knew as soon as he'd gone around once that this would be a tough case. Not as tough as the one Team Two had gotten, but still….

The woman looked just like Angela. Light brown, sun-streaked hair, slender, somewhat curvy form, about 5' 10", probably around 132 pounds…. and he estimated her age to be around 36 or 37 years old. That was the age Angela had been the last time he'd seen her alive. That was as old as his Angel ever got to be.

And Mira was dealing with a little girl who looked like Charlotte. He knew that couldn't be easy for her. She'd doted on Charlotte; she called it "making up for what she never got to have". Heck, Charlie had known her as "Aunt Mira".

He knew he wasn't the only living person who missed Charlotte. He was just the one who missed her the most.

His musings were brought to an abrupt end when Fischer stepped up beside him. "So, what do you think?"

"She wasn't killed here," he said. "She was dragged from the street. And that car," he added, gesturing towards it, "is a Cadillac. This girl wasn't broke, but she couldn't have afforded that."

"So it isn't hers," Fischer said.

"No," Jane confirmed. _But it does look just like the one Angela used to drive,_ he added silently.

"Why's it here?" Cho wondered aloud, staring at the car.

"I'm not sure yet," Jane admitted.

Lisbon came up on the other side of him. "The coroner over here is getting pretty impatient. What've we got?"

Jane crouched down next to the body when he saw sunlight glinting off something. "This appears to be a well planned murder; the killer probably knew the victim well. The car isn't hers, but it is significant in some way. And…" he leaned forward until he could see what the thing that glinted was. It was mostly covered by blood, but he still saw it. "She was married."

"Right- was," the local police chief stepped up. "Her husband was killed a few years ago."

"Really? How?"

"Arson," sighed the police chief. "Sam was a good man, loved his wife. He was a gambler, but he never lost. He didn't cheat either. They were good for each other."

"Why was Sam killed?" Lisbon asked.

"It was an accident. They meant to set fire to the garage, all right, but they didn't mean for Sam to be in it."

Jane froze. When the light spring breeze in the air shifted, he smelled it.

A light, airy scent. A woman's perfume. Not overly feminine, but still feminine enough.

The same perfume Angela used to love.

And it was mixed with the coppery smell of blood.

It was all too familiar. He couldn't turn off the images that it brought to his mind.

"Jane!" He looked up at Cho. Judging by the tone of his voice, he'd been trying to get his attention for a moment or two. Whoops.

"Yeah?"

"You got an idea? 'Cause you look like it," Cho said. Jane would have smiled if it wasn't for this most recent, creepy turn of events. Cho knew when he had an idea? He hadn't realized Cho was so good at reading him. He'd need to work on that. But right now there were more pressing issues.

"Uh, Lisbon," Jane jerked his head away, signalling for a private conversation.

Lisbon nodded, and they walked a few steps away, out of earshot.

"What's wrong?" Lisbon asked.

"You got a good look at the victim over there?" He asked, sounding a little breathless. Lisbon frowned. He looked… pale. Pale and shaky. Worried now, she nodded.

"Look at this," he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet, opened it, and held it up for her to see.

On the far right of the photo sleeve was a picture of her. It was in her office at the CBI, probably three or four years ago. It looked like he'd taken it when she wasn't looking, but she was looking at something out of shot and smiling. It made her blush, knowing he'd had that in there, but she knew that wasn't what he wanted her to see, so she tore her eyes away from it and moved on to the second picture.

It was a little girl, probably four or five years old. Blond, curly hair; bright, dancing green eyes; wearing a pink dress with a matching bow in her hair. She knew it had to be Charlotte. Her breath caught a little; she'd never been able to see more than the crime scene photos and she'd looked at those as little as possible. Charlotte was adorable.

The third photo was the one that made her mouth go dry. A young woman with long, brown, sun-streaked hair. Medium height, weight; amused looking brown eyes, smiling somewhat playfully back at the camera, holding a glass of wine in one hand and waving parade-style with the other. It looked like she was at a party.

She looked just like the victim laying not twenty feet away.

And she was Angela Jane.

Lisbon raised her eyes to meet Jane's. "Oh, God, Jane," she whispered.

He shook his head, sliding the wallet back into his pocket. "I was hoping it was just a coincidence-"

"You don't believe in coincidences," Lisbon pointed out gently.

He almost smiled. Almost. "True. Doesn't matter though; that isn't what it is." He looked at the car. "That car is… just like Angela's. She drove it everyday, loved it. Said it was the best car she'd ever had."

"It could still be a coincidence," Lisbon said.

"No," he said firmly. "Her perfume is exactly the same. It was her favorite. She wasn't very… girly, you know," he smiled a little sadly. "She loved that, because she said it was just the right amount of girl and generic." he chuckled, but the expression stopped suddenly. "It smells… exactly the same. Especially now."

"What do you think it is?" she asked.

He looked up at the sky for a moment. "If I didn't think you'd tell me it's not all about me, I'd say that it was." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, looking almost as though he was willing her to catch on.

She did.

"Why, Jane? There's no motive for that," she pointed out.

"Not yet," he agreed. "But when we have a suspect, we might just find something."

"You really think this has something to do with you," Lisbon said, unbelieving. She had to admit it sounded like it would make sense, but at the same time, there was no reason.

When Mira walked onto the crime scene, she had to force her heart and lungs to start working again.

As if it wasn't enough that it was the first crime scene, the first body she'd seen in five years… No, it was even longer than that. Six or seven, because undercover agents didn't have to go to crime scenes, and her stint as a CIA consultant had ended with her as an undercover agent… anyway, as if that was not enough, the victim was a child. And as if even that wasn't enough, said child looked just like Charlotte Jane. At least, what was left of her. Mira shuddered. _Let's not go down that line of thought,_ she scolded herself.

She was in a playground. _Of all the gosh-awful places for it, _Mira thought. Even worse? She was on a swing.

That was Charlotte's favorite thing, going on swings. She never had quite managed to master keeping herself going on a swing, and her Daddy was usually too busy to push her for very long. "Aunt Mira", on the other hand, was always willing to do whatever Charlie wanted, and if that was to be pushed on the swing, that was what she'd do. They used to walk to the park, and spend an hour there, just on the swings, giving "Mommy" a break and "Daddy" a chance of some peace. Sometimes "Mommy" came, so she and Mira could talk while Charlotte swung.

She heard a voice she didn't like echo through her head. "_Don't let your emotions run away with you, Darlin', they're nothing but trouble,"_

She had to admit to herself, she needed to listen to that voice. Her mother had been right, even if she didn't want her to be. If she stood still much longer, Agent Meller would ask her what was going on and she didn't need that.

She stepped up to the body and studied it for a moment.

"Well?"

Mira looked up when she heard Meller's voice. "'Well' what?"

"What do you think?"

Mira walked around the swing, until she was opposite Meller instead of beside her. "Rather chilly today, don't you agree, madam?" Annoying people was a default setting; sometimes she didn't even think about it.

"About the case, Colburn."

"Ah, certainly," Mira said. She stared at the victim for several long seconds, before she thrust her hands into the pockets of her long jacket- it really wasn't chilly enough for a long designer jacket, but it was mostly for appearances- and pulled out a pair of gloves. She put them on.

"What are you doing?" Rudy asked curiously, at her elbow. She glanced at him.

He was so, so easy to read. He was absolutely horrified by the sight in front of him but he was trying to prove he had the guts and stand his ground. The way the poor rookie looked now, she guessed the only thing he'd have on the ground would be his lunch, in about five minutes.

Four, if she was correct in her assumptions, and she hoped to heaven she was wrong.

Mira stepped forward and reached into the edge of the little girl's collar, determinedly shutting off her feelings about doing so in the process. The ability to turn off one's feelings did, it seemed, come in handy after all.

From the collar of the little dress she pulled a piece of paper.

"I believe this is going to be of interest," she drawled, catching Meller's attention, as she glanced around. "Does someone have an evidence bag? I suspect this to be evidence," she said. One of the forensics guys held one out to her.

"Thank you," she said, unfolding the note and stuffing it in, writing side away from her.

When she was done, she turned it over, and read the words on it.

"Good Lord," she whispered.

"What is it?" Rudy leaned over her shoulder; Meller looked perturbed because she couldn't see.

"Well?" What does it say?" the bored looking team leader demanded. Mira held the note up for her to see. She refused to display her reaction to the note (you never displayed weaknesses amongst those who may be predators, and while she liked Rudy, Meller was another story), and she didn't trust her voice.

Five typewritten words glared back at Agent Meller.

"_**Give Mr. Jane my condolences."**_

"Teresa," Mira called, hurrying to catch up to Lisbon as she walked out of the elevator.

"Colburn," Lisbon acknowledged. "You don't get to call me Teresa. I am Agent Lisbon at work."

Under normal circumstances, Mira would have argued the point, but this was not a normal circumstance.

"Agent Lisbon," she accepted, her lilting southern accent giving the name an odd sort of accentuation, "How is Patrick?"

"Fine," Lisbon said immediately.

Mira scanned her face. She found what she was looking for. "Physically, yes, but not emotionally. What happened?"

Lisbon frowned. "It's none of your business, Colburn. You're out of line," she started to walk away, but Mira caught her arm and hauled her back with surprising force.

"No, ma'am, my sincerest apologies, but I cannot be rebuffed. There is something you need to handle."

Lisbon tried to pull her arm loose. Finding this impossible, she straightened up and tried to regain her dignity while she was at it. "Handle?"

Glancing around to make sure of their solitude, Mira pulled an evidence bag with a piece of paper in it- the one with the message- from her pocket. "Someone is after Patrick. They're trying to play mind game with him. Someone needs to do something to make sure he keeps it together, and you're his best friend and his...paramour. You're the best individual for this task." Mira pressed the paper into Lisbon's hands.

Lisbon stared at the paper, written in red ink with what looked like an old typewriter.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed.

"My sentiments exactly," Mira said dryly.

"Where did this come from?" Lisbon demanded.

"It was, ah, it was on the… remains of a young lady who was so very similar to Charlotte, I almost couldn't fathom it," she admitted.

"What would you know about Charlotte? What would you care about Charlotte?" Lisbon wanted to know.

Mira looked up at the ceiling and heaved a sigh. When she looked back at Lisbon, her expression was controlled, but still softer than it had been. "I know you don't trust me. I'm used to such treatment. I do not entertain this behavior as an insult. But I do want you to know, that I was never just a business partner to Patrick. I was his best friend." She swallowed and looked away. "I was Charlotte's Aunt Mira, and I was high on Angela's list of girl friends." She shrugged. "I… miss them too. They were my unofficial family."

Lisbon just stood there, looking as though she didn't know what to say. Mira figured she probably didn't.

"I want to know what happened because I care about Patrick and because I suspect certain underhanded schemes are in the making somewhere."

Lisbon nodded. "Okay. Fine. It was… the victim looked like his wife. Angela. And the car was just like hers, and the victim had been sprayed with the same kind of perfume she used to wear."

"Spring Field," Mira murmured.

"What?"

"That was her perfume."

"Oh."

"Until something else happens, I can honestly say that no method of knowing who the miscreants are or what they desire presents itself, but I can assure you, as soon as someone thinks of something, you'll be amongst the first to know." Mira started to back away.

"Um, hey," Lisbon called, looking awkward.

"Yes?" Mira paused in her retreat.

"Sorry," Lisbon said. "For… well, you know,"

Mira shook her head. "It is nothing, Agent Lisbon. As I have said, I am used it," she offered a smile, which rung somewhat fake, nodded to her once, and left the area, striding towards the bullpen her team resided in.

"Hey, J- Patrick," Lisbon caught herself at the last second. She just couldn't get it into her head that he wasn't Jane, even now that they were together. Although, where their relationship was going was anyone's guess. She hoped she was in a position to have the conversation with him.

"Teresa," he acknowledged, staring at the floor in front of his couch.

The bullpen was empty. Wylie was on a break, and Cho and Fischer were out informing the family of Catalyn Martin of her death and asking them a few questions.

"Mira found something at the other crime scene. She thinks the two of them are connected," she began.

He looked up. "Oh? Why does she think that?"

Lisbon fidgeted in place for a few seconds before handing him the note. "Because of this."

Jane read it in a glance, and nodded. "That would do it," he said.

"What do you think it is?" Lisbon asked. "Who'd want to do this?"

Jane laughed a little. "I've made a lot of people mad, Teresa. I can't even remember them all."

"That surprises me," Lisbon joked. "You can remember everyone you shook hands with but not everyone you annoyed?"

"I didn't shake hands with everyone I'd angered," Jane smiled.

They were silent for several moments before Lisbon addressed the elephant in the room.

"Are you okay?"

He was silent for several long moments. Then he sighed and leaned back onto the couch, looking at her with a clearly loving expression. She wasn't expecting it; to say the least, it surprised her.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm not gonna lie, it's hard, but I have you. And I want you to know, I'm not going anywhere." He looked at her with an intensity she never tired of.

She blushed a little, because they were at work, and because she had been worried that he'd pull away from her.

"Good," she whispered. And then, against her better judgement, she leaned forward and kissed him.

Mira chose that moment to walk into the room. She froze on the threshold for a moment, and then backed away before either Jane or Lisbon could see her. Smiling to herself, and feeling just a little melancholy, she walked back to their bullpen.

She sat down on top of her desk, clasping her hands and resting her elbows on her knees, her chin on her hands. A very unladylike position that her mother would have scolded her up and down for, but she was alone, and didn't care.

"Hi."

She almost fell off of the desk.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare ya," Rudy sounded apologetic.

He was a nice kid. Well, she reasoned, he really wasn't a kid anymore. He was probably going over twenty-seven, hardly younger than herself… well, four or five years, but still not by much. But he had managed to retain some amount of precious naivety. Sometimes, she wished she'd been so lucky.

"Rudy," she acknowledges him.

He sat down beside her on the desk.

They sat there in silence for several moments. Then, belatedly, Rudy asked, "You didn't mind if I sat here, did you?"

Mira laughed softly. "No, no, my dear Rudy, make yourself quite at home," she said, without looking up.

"Thinking about the case?" he asked.

"No, just…" she realized that the curious agent wouldn't let it go, but she really didn't feel like telling him. "Thinking, in a general sense."

"Where are you from?"

She glanced up at him now. "My, my, Rudy, are you interrogating me?"

To his credit, he was somewhat abashed. But only somewhat. "No, just making conversation."

"I see." she looked back down and didn't move or say anything. She'd hoped her diversion tactic- make him embarrassed, and then have him leaving in a hurry to scrape up his dignity- would work well on him. Unfortunately, he was more persistent than she'd thought.

After a while, he startled her again.

"So?"

"So what?" she repeated, after she'd used biofeedback to her advantage and fixed her heart rate, which was trying to shoot out of proportions. People rarely, if ever, snuck up on her, and twice in ten minutes was a bit much.

"Where _are_ you from?"

She looked at him again. "What are you trying to do, Rudy?"

Now he was starting to look uncomfortable. "Make friends?" he suggested, lamely.

"And why in Heaven's name would you want to do that? I'm not friendship material, Rudy," she said, with a slightly self-deprecating smile. Before he could read too much into it, she turned her head away. Geeze, she had to get a better grip on herself. Her whole life had been spent, learning to control every nuance of her body language and expressions, until she could even fool herself. Now here she was with a stranger and almost couldn't keep things under wraps. All because Patrick Jane, her former best friend, kissed Teresa Lisbon, a woman who (as she read the situation) obviously was very much in love with him, as he was with her.

Yes, all because he kissed her. _As well he should, _she thought.

She wasn't jealous of Teresa. No, no, certainly not. He had always been only a friend, and the near ten-year age gap wouldn't help matters there.

She was jealous of Patrick though. He deserved a second chance, he really did. And he got it.

But she wasn't going to get a second chance. She'd lost her one and only chance.

It simply wasn't fair.

"I'm sorry, I should just-" Rudy's voice again cut her thoughts off. It was getting to be a habit with him.

She glanced up just in time to see him starting to stand up. She put a hand on his arm.

"No- no. Stay," she said. "My apologies. Today is not a nice day."

He sat down again slowly. "Yeah, I guess not. I mean, some wacko is threatening your friend."

Mira shook her head. "I'm not at all certain that he remains my friend. Not anymore."

All of sudden Rudy looked protective. "What'd he do?"

"Oh, no, no. He has done nothing. It's just…" she looked out the window. "People grow apart over time. He….do you know why he's been threatened?"

"I thought we still didn't know," Rudy said, sounding puzzled.

"We do not. You are correct." She said. "But his wife and daughter were murdered about twelve or fourteen years ago. They were, ah, good friends of mine."

Understanding dawned upon Rudy. "And that's who the people were supposed to be? The victims?"

Mira just nodded.

"Gee, I'm sorry, Colburn."

"Mira," she said. She looked at him from the corner of her eye. "You can call me Mira, if I'm to call you Rudy."

"Okay," Rudy agreed.

"After they were gone, he didn't talk to me. Wouldn't have anything to do with me; I attempted to get in touch with him countless times but was always rebuffed. He didn't even inform me of their demise. I had to learn the gruesome truth on the news a few days later."

She sat up to face her sympathetic ear. "I haven't talked to him but once since the last time we shared a repast together, as close friends so often do. He called me from his island once. Just to check in on me, as he explained it. And that was all there was, until now."

Rudy, she knew, knew nothing of "his island". She didn't bother to explain. He didn't bother to ask.

"So, who are you friends with then?"

"No one."

"How about me?" He held a hand out to her. "I'd like to be your friend. I don't have any either."

She found it amusing, perhaps even endearing, that he would ask permission first. She offered him a genuine smile- it was a rarity. "Of course you may, my dear Rudy. Of course you may." she clasped his hand for a moment. She didn't shake hands with him- it wasn't ladylike to shake hands; men did that. A gentleman clasped a lady's hand, and shook a man's hand; that was how she was raised.

It confused him at first, until she said that out loud, and then he grinned and did the proper thing.

"I'm from New Orleans, you know," she said, looking him in the eye. "I spent some time with a southern circuit on a carnival. This accent that no one can quite place, other than the knowledge that it is southern, is rather a conglomeration from all the places we stayed. the Carolinas, Georgia, Louisiana, Kentucky…. you understand. My mother dragged me into it screaming." She chuckled. "I still remain adamant in my hatred of carnivals."

"I'm from New York," Rudy offered.

"I know," Mira said. "New York, New York. Right downtown. City boy through and through, and straight into law enforcement. A police acadamy, no doubt."

He stared at her, mouth open. She laughed again, this time for real, completely unaware of the fact that Rudy secretly decided that was his new favorite sound right then and there.

"I'm a mentalist, Rudy, it's what I do," she said.

"Agent Conlon, Colburn," the voice of Dennis Abbott said, and both agents glanced up to see him standing in the door. "There's a meeting in my office, and we were hoping you could make it," he said dryly.

"Very droll, Dennis," Mira said in a bored drawl.

"And another thing. This 'Dennis' business has got to stop. I'm Agent Abbott to you, Colburn."

"I do so dislike that deplorable moniker- 'Agent'. It sounds so very… sterile." She sighed dramatically. "Perhaps Mister Abbott would suffice?"

"It'll do," Abbott agreed, with a twinkle in his eye.

Rudy leaped up and offered her a hand. With an amused smile, she took it, and stood up.

"It's the chivalrous thing to do," he explained, grinning.

"That it is, Rudy," she said, smiling. "That it is."

"Agents," Abbott addressed them from behind his desk. "This note arrived at the office for Jane a few moments ago." He held up a slip of paper. "Forensics has already checked it for evidence. There was none."

"And when did this occur, Mister Abbott?" Mira inquired.

"About twenty minutes ago," he answered.

That explained why she hadn't known about it. She and Rudy had been busy around then.

"If I may be so bold as to ask, what does our friendly little note tell us?"

"I'm getting to that," Abbott said firmly.

She dipped her head a little to one side. She'd tried. "Point taken."

"It says, '_It's too bad we missed the first round, but the second wasn't bad. We just can't wait for the third._'"

"Oh dear," murmured Mira.

"Golly," breathed Rudy.

Theirs were the only reactions in the room. Lisbon looked worried, but she had even since they'd come in; Patrick was… she didn't know. She never could read him. And Meller was unaffected as ever. Cho was equally stoic. She had to hand it to both of them; they'd be fair game in a round of Poker, with those never changing expressions.

"The two cases you received today are actually one and the same, and because threats are being made to a member of the FBI, you are each being assigned to it. I want you to work together and solve this thing before anyone else gets hurt. Is that clear?"

"Indeed it is, Mister Abbott," intoned Mira.

"Yes, sir," Meller, Rudy, and Lisbon all said in unison, Jane's "Certainly," added in to the noise.

"Good." he handed the note to Jane. "You're all dismissed."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I have re-written this way too many times already. I just can't seem to get it perfect so this'll have to do.**

**Thank you again for the lovely reviews! Keep them coming!**

CHAPTER FOUR

"Uh, guys," Wylie was calling from his desk. "I think I found something!"

Lisbon jumped up from her desk, and hurried to the space behind Wylie's chair. Cho and Fischer were right behind her. Jane didn't move from his spot on the couch.

"It looks like Catalyn was getting random deposits from somebody named Jeremy Willfield. She was paying a lot of money to all sorts of offshore accounts," he said, glancing up behind him now and then. "I can't find much on the other victim though," he admitted.

"Other victim?"

Lisbon knew someone was behind her, and she knew who it was by the perfume- a strong, floral scent that somehow managed to stay just on the south side of the line between sweet and sickening. Just barely. Of course, the accent made it all the more easy.

"Yeah, the little girl. Traci Dunhill," Wylie explained.

"Of course," Mira said, but she didn't stick around and Lisbon wasn't sure if she'd heard or not, because she was apparently just passing through. "You haven't seen me," she added as an afterthought before taking off towards the stairs.

Seconds later, in charged Agent Meller, looking like she was ready to take out her gun and shoot someone. Nobody had to wonder who it was she was ready to shoot.

"I haven't seen her," Lisbon said instantly. She wasn't sure what made her lie for the woman, but she did it anyway.

Agent Meller's expression became even more dark, if that was possible, and she stomped to the breakroom.

"Somebody needs to talk to this Jeremy," Fischer said, breaking the silence as though nothing had interrupted them.

"Jane and I will do that," Lisbon volunteered.

Jane jumped up and followed her out of the bullpen.

When they passed the stairs, they found Mira sitting on them, shuffling a deck of cards to pass the time. She glanced up, smiling, when she saw them. "An excursion?" she inquired. "Might I join in your endeavor? You may explain the details during our travels," she said.

"Sure, come on," Jane grinned. Mira put the deck of cards somewhere in her brown suede designer jacket and and jumped up to follow them from the building.

"What did you do Meller?" Lisbon asked.

"Trust me, Agent Lisbon, you do not wish to know," chuckled Mira.

Lisbon pulled up in front of a small bungalow on the outskirts of town, glancing behind her at Mira, who was playing with something on her phone.

"Did you hear what I just said?"

"Yes ma'am," she said immediately.

"What was it?" Lisbon was certain she hadn't listened to her impromptu briefing.

"Our fine technological wizard has stumbled upon the unmistakable throes of what was likely an off of the books relationship between our dearly departed Miss Martin and a certain person of interest regarding the victim's bank account, whose title happens to be Jeremy Willfield."

Lisbon turned a questioning look on Jane.

"She heard you," he confirmed.

"What is it with you and your vocabulary, anyway?" Lisbon demanded, only half serious, as they stepped out of the SUV.

Mira shrugged. "I wasn't sent to school, so I taught myself from some books lying about. One might say there was an overabundance of vocabulary and English volumes."

"And I thought I was the only person who read the dictionary for fun," Jane quipped.

"You two better behave when we get up here. These people, if this was an innocent friendship or something, are probably grieving." Lisbon said as they stepped onto the porch. She banged on the door, and soon it was opened by a tall, graying gentleman.

"Can I help you?"

Before Lisbon could open her mouth, Mira said, "Yes, sir. This is Mr. Patrick Jane, I'm Mira Colburn, and this is the formidable Agent Lisbon. We're here from the FBI and would like to make a few inquiries in regard to an ongoing murder investigation. May we come in?"

Lisbon sent her a covert dark look.

If she noticed, she didn't show it.

Jane just grinned affably.

The man opened the door wider to let them in, leading them towards the living room. "Certainly, follow me," he said.

"Mr. Willfield, is your son Jeremy home? We were hoping to speak with him as well," Lisbon said.

"Yes, he is. I'll call him." The older man went to a door in the hallway and, opening it, called, "Jeremy! You've got company,"

A few moments later a younger man- in his twenties, Lisbon judged- came out the door, closing it behind him and striding into the living room.

"We're from the FBI," Lisbon said. "I'm Agent Teresa Lisbon, and these are two of our best consultants and assets, Patrick Jane and Mira Colburn."

"What do you guys want with me?" Jeremy looked befuddled.

"We'd like to talk to you about a woman named Catalyn Martin."

Jeremy visibly blanched. Even Lisbon could see it.

"What's happened to her? Is she alright?" he demanded.

Lisbon sighed mentally. So, he didn't know. "She was murdered yesterday," Lisbon said, as gently as she could. This was the part of her job she hated, walking in and ruining someone's month with just a few words, telling them that a loved one was never coming back home.

"Oh, God," Jeremy gasped.

"Why don't you sit down, Jeremy, and we can discuss this properly?" Mira suggested in a kindly tone.

Jeremy took the few steps forward and dropped onto the couch, across from Lisbon, and catty corner to Mira. Jane was wandering around room like he always did; but Mira, Lisbon noted with some satisfaction, remained seated like a normal person.

"Who is Catalyn to you?" asked Lisbon.

"She's my friend," he said. "She was my teacher in high school, for math, and we became friends. She was my best friend," he said. "She's gone, huh? How?" he looked devastated.

"Someone did things no one ever should with a hatchet, Jeremy." Lisbon sent a warning look in the speaker's direction, and Mira ignored her.

"When was the last time you saw Catalyn?" Lisbon asked.

"Three days ago, we met for lunch at a cafe a few miles from here," Jeremy said.

"Is this her?" Jane leaned over the back of the couch holding a photo.

"Yeah. It's from last year," Jeremy told him.

"Lovely shot," Jane said. "Who took it?"

"My mom,"

"Where is your mom?"

"She passed away a few months ago,"

"I see." Jane returned the photo to the table behind the couch.

"I'm sorry about your mother," Mira said, and from what Lisbon could see, she meant it. "I know what that's like." Lisbon remembered Mira's statement about "keeping in touch" and she felt a tiny bit guilty for her reaction at the time. After all, the woman beside her had, literally, no one in the world, if she was to be believed. At least she still had her brothers; Jane still had… well, her.

"Do you know anyone who would want to hurt Catalyn?" Lisbon asked.

"No... no, she was brash, and a little prickly on the outside, but she really was a good person. No one I know would wish real harm on her, " he said. "She was one of the nicest people you ever met,"

Jane wandered around the couch. "She sounds a lot like someone I used to know," he said.

Lisbon glanced at him. His face was unreadable, but Lisbon knew by the look in his eyes who he meant. She knew that might very well be the closest she'd get to hearing Jane describe Angela. She glanced at Mira and saw her look away for a moment.

"We had reason to suspect that Catalyn was your inamorta," Mira said carefully. "Do you have anything to say in that regard?"

"What? No!" exclaimed Jeremy. "We were best friends, but we weren't that!"

"Now, now," Mira held up a placating hand. "I am required to ask rude questions, Jeremy. Do accept my sincerest apologies."

He nodded. "I know... I know. You're just doing your job. I'm sorry. It's just-"

"We understand, Jeremy," Jane said.

"What was your financial connection to Catalyn?" Asked Lisbon.

"She didn't make much money as a nurse and her husband had unpaid gambling debts from before they were married. Back when he still lost," Jeremy said with a smile. "She was paying them off, and I was helping her with common expenses... you know, food, utilities. I couldn't give her much, a hundred here or there. I have my own family to worry about."

"You are betrothed?" Mira inquired.

"With a daughter," Jane said, sticking his head out of the kitchen.

"Yes," Jeremy looked proud. "I've been married for a year and have a two-month-old daughter. Emi," he smiled.

Jane and Mira traded glances. There was no way this kid did anything intentionally bad.

Lisbon smiled back at him. "Did you have any f-"

"-fun with Catalyn recently?" Mira finished the sentence for Lisbon. Lisbon didn't appreciate the help, since that hadn't been what she was going to say. She'd been going to ask if Jeremy had had any fights with Catalyn recently but Mira seemed to have other ideas.

"Yeah, we went to a concert together a few weeks ago," Jeremy said.

"Interesting," said Jane. Lisbon glanced at him. She had no idea what he was talking about.

"Imagine if someone would hurt Catalyn," Mira suggested. "Who is the one person you know, in your heart, would be capable of the deed?"

Jeremy was silent for a moment.

"Who did you just think of?" Mira asked a moment later.

Jeremy looked up, startled.

"It is a futile effort to mislead to me, Jeremy. And you were about to prevaricate."

"That means lie," Jane said helpfully, from the other side of the couch.

Jeremy swallowed and looked away, then back.

"I don't know all their names, but there's a lot of people who wanted her money…. the debts, you know. You could look at her bank accounts. Anyone she was paying huge amounts of money to, that's them. I don't know, but what if one of them got impatient?"

"That's a possibility we'll look into," promised Lisbon, moving to stand up. "Thank you for your time," she said.

Mira put a stilling hand on Lisbon's arm. "A moment, Agent Lisbon," she said.

"Yes?" Jeremy looked expectantly to her, wiping a hand over his eyes in an attempt to retain his dignity as he did so.

She sat down next to him. "It doesn't get easier," she said in a half whisper, "not really. But you will learn to cope with it."

"You sound like you speak from experience," he sighed.

"Yes, well," she looked a little uncomfortable. "We've all got our secret pasts, now haven't we?"

Jeremy nodded after a moment. "Thanks," he murmured.

She smiled, patted his arm, stood up, and led the way out of the house.

They left the house, and Lisbon turned to the mentalists. "What did you two see in there that I missed?"

Jane grinned. "Are you admitting that I see things you miss, Lisbon? You're admitting I'm useful?"

Mira chuckled. "I do believe I was included in the question, Patrick."

Jane looked at Lisbon. "The kid's innocent. He hasn't done anything."

"How can you be sure?" Lisbon demanded.

Jane stepped in front of her. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you think he could kill someone."

She couldn't do it. "I don't think he did either, but he's still the most likely suspect. We have to check all our boxes."

"How is he the most likely suspect? He has no motive, Lisbon," Jane said, looking honestly befuddled.

"He's the only friend- real friend- Catalyn had. He paid her money, every month, what if he eventually started to expect something in return? Or what if he was just loaning it to her, and she couldn't pay? Then he kills her," Lisbon reasoned.

"You don't believe that," Jane said confidently.

"Patrick," Mira interrupted their banter, "Our dear Agent Lisbon here is quite correct. You and I both know there is nothing in it, but the theory must be disproven with some sort of evidence. And our thoughts do not count."

"Did the funeral home have security cameras?" Jane asked.

"The funeral home owner said they didn't," Lisbon told him.

"He is deceiving you, Agent Lisbon," Mira said. "He does indeed have them."

"How do you know?" Lisbon asked, smiling a little.

"Magic," Mira said dryly.

"I'll get an order for those right away. Our guy might be on them," Lisbon said, pulling her phone out of her pocket and striding away to call Abbott.

Jane grinned at Mira. This reminded him of the old days, having a spirited discussion about a topic with Mira, himself, and Angela. Only now it was Mira, himself, and Teresa.

In some ways, Teresa reminded him of Angela.

"What did you do to Meller?" he asked.

She laughed. "I may have glued her stapler to the desk."

He chuckled. "Why'd you do that?"

"So she will be unable to utilize it as a weapon against me when she discovers what has become of her car keys." Mira held up her shirt to display a small bruise on her side. "She's already tried that once," she smiled.

"You definitely got her worked up," Jane said.

"Indeed," Mira agreed. "I fear I underestimated her wrath. If this her reaction to the stapler, I believe she will throw the entire desk when she find her keys in a puzzle box she can't open,"

"I tried that once," Jane remarked.

"Agent Lisbon had a hammer, didn't she?" said Mira. "Pity. I palmed Meller's hammer."

"Sure did go to a lot of trouble," observed Jane.

"I made a bet with Rudy," Mira admitted.

Jane laughed. "Let me know how it turns out,"

"I will, Patrick," Mira returned. "Perhaps it would be prudent for me to hang out on your couch for a while, however," she said.

"Be my guest," Jane said.

Lisbon came walking back over. "Let's go," she said. "We're gonna see about reviewing that security camera footage."

"Yes ma'am," grinned Mira, hurrying over to the passenger side back door of the SUV.

"Can we get some food on the way? I'm starving," Jane whined, from the front seat, as soon as they were underway.

"There is a darling little diner two blocks left from the next intersection," Mira drawled, without looking up from her phone.

"Fine," Lisbon said, "but you're buying."

Jane just grinned.

They pulled into the diner and Jane was out of the car like a shot, opening the door for Mira, and hurrying around the other side to open the door for Lisbon.

"I'm capable of opening my own door, Jane," Lisbon told him, trying to sound annoyed, but she was smiling.

"Of course you are," he agreed, before leaning down to kiss her. She pushed him away after a second, blushing.

He held the door for both of them on the way into the diner.

After they were seated, Mira pulled the deck of cards from her pocket. "Does anyone want to play a round of penny poker while we wait for our culinary delights to arrive?" She asked.

They agreed, and fifteen minutes later, Mira had won ten dollars- two from Lisbon, who folded as soon as she realized Mira was a professional, and eight from Jane, who refused to believe she was better than him. Their food arriving was the only thing that saved him from going broke.

"He memorizes the cards, you know," Lisbon said conversationally.

"I know," grinned Mira. "And yet, I am the only one who has ever been able to beat him. He never can accept it." She chuckled. "I do take great pride in it." She twirled her spaghetti around her fork as she spoke.

"Isn't that cheating?" Lisbon said to Jane.

"Not if the opponent knows how to foil her adversary," laughed Mira.

The banter continued for several moments.

Lisbon was finding that she actually enjoyed Mira's company, and liked to talk with her. She was an excellent conversationalist.

Jane knew there was a rift between he and Mira and he knew why. He also knew he should talk to her about it and try to work things out, but he couldn't figure out how. And since he was so good at pretending, he had decided pretending nothing was wrong was a pretty good idea.

Mira knew Jane was pretending to have things all patched up between them and she knew Lisbon wasn't faking at all. She enjoyed their company; she had forgotten what friends were like, even if some of them weren't real.

Lisbon's phone rang on her next to last bite of mashed potatoes.

"Lisbon," she answered it. "Yeah. Uh huh. We'll be right there," she promised whoever it was and hung up.

"There's been another one," she said grimly. "Let's go."

The three FBI members came onto the scene of a another murder with somber expressions. A young woman, another Angela look alike. Dead. By a hatchet.

Mira spotted the note first- it said _**"Before round three comes 2 ½."**_

"Whoever this is is hoping to make you comply to their wishes by making you feel guilty about the deaths," Mira said to Jane. She looked him in the eye. "Promise me you won't be foolish when they confront you, Patrick."

He nodded and looked away, and Mira knew that was the best she'd get at that point.

He went to wait in the SUV while Mira and Lisbon finished up at the scene; when they drove back it was in silence.

"I'm not at all certain that this latest excitement is enough to cause Missus Meller to call a truce, so I do believe your couch will have two friends for awhile, Patrick," Mira said to Jane as they walked into the bullpen. He didn't really acknowledge her.

She sighed mentally. She really shouldn't have been shocked and hurt by the fact that he refused to talk to her when Angie and Charlie died. He wouldn't look at her now, and it was a stranger he never knew.

She went into the breakroom, where she found Rudy with a pot of coffee. "Hello, Rudy," she greeted him, moving to the fridge.

"Hi," he said. "How'd it go with the Willfield kid?"

Mira shrugged. "He is a perfectly innocent young man with a young family to care for and the death of a best friend to grieve."

"So, no leads?" Rudy said.

"He did suggest that perhaps Sam Martin's gambling debts came back to haunt his widower."

"Check it out yet?"

"We have not."

"Oh."

They were silent as Mira unburied the pitcher of tea in the refrigerator.

"Um, hey, if I tell you something, would you promise not to laugh?"

"Is this thing that you wish to inform me of an epigram?" she returned.

When he didn't answer, she turned around to find him giving her a puzzled stare.

"Are you going to tell a joke?" she clarified.

"Oh. No, it's serious," Rudy said, understanding.

"My dear Rudy, I would never laugh at your efforts if they were indeed well-meaning and based in the name of logic," Mira said honestly.

"I told Agent Abbott, and he laughed," Rudy said, sounding miffed.

"Mister Abbott is a man of many talents, but tact and diplomacy be not among them," Mira said.

"What was the name of the little girl again? Rudy asked.

"Traci. Traci Dunhill." Mira's voice didn't display any emotional inflection when she said it, even though the name was saddening.

"I think I know who killed Traci."

Mira almost dropped the glass of iced tea she'd been filling. She whirled around so she could judge his sincerity.

"That, Rudy, is a monstrous stroke of luck. If our Mister Abbott has indeed been laughing at your efforts to detain the miscreants who have taken away the life of an innocent child, so help me, I will-"

"It sounds pretty crazy," Rudy interrupted. "You can't blame him. I don't think you'll believe me either."

"Even if I do not believe you, I will attempt to prove or disprove your theory on its own merit before I make any decisions."

"Really?"

"Truly."

"Thanks."

"You are quite welcome." she sipped her iced tea. "Are you going to share your theory?"

"Oh, yeah," Rudy said. "Well, you remember when we went there, the sidewalk on the other side of the side street wasn't emptied?"

"Went where?" Mira asked, failing to follow the train of thought. She had a good idea what he meant but didn't want to assume things incorrectly.

"The playground!" Rudy explained, as though she should have known it all along.

"I see," Mira said. "Please, carry on."

"There was a man in a leather jacket standing over there. Everybody else was walking by as quick as they could, some were just ignoring the sights, but he was the one guy who just stood there and stared."

"Do we know the identity of this stranger?"

"Yeah," Rudy said, suddenly looking a little sheepish. "When we pulled the security camera footage from across the street and we didn't find anything, but I saw that guy there the whole time were there, and he walked by three times before we arrived. The first was before anyone knew about it at all. I made Wylie look it up off the books… you know, in case I was wrong." He shrugged. "The guy has a record for drugs and DUIs, and he stabbed a lot of people. Once, he stabbed a woman with a hatchet."

"And the killer often likes to watch his work be discovered," Mira mused.

"I just think we should bring him in and talk to him, is all." Rudy said.

"That we should," Mira agreed. She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Rudy, you may very well have brought justice to this little girl's demise."

"It's nothing," Rudy said modestly.

"It is most assuredly not nothing. It sounds oddly like something I would do- I can assure you that most detectives would think nothing of a man such as the one you have described, and yet here you are, telling me something which strikes me as likely and instrumental in this investigation."

"Thanks," Rudy muttered, not looking at her, but rather taking sudden interest in the floor.

Smiling, she gave his shoulder a pat and went off to find Abbott.

It wouldn't be hard. She knew the man would be in his office, doing whatever he did, sitting in there all the time.

She walked in without knocking- a mistake to her ladylike manners, but something that hardly seemed important at the time.

"Mister Abbott," she greeted him, "We need to discuss a lead."

"There!" came Cho's voice. It caught Jane's attention; Cho never sounded excited. Yet, there he was, he sounding…. excited. It was so rare that even if Jane had been in the grayest of moods, he would've had to look, because he might not get to see it again.

He was almost in the grayest of moods, feeling responsible and miserable and guilty for causing the deaths of three more innocent people. Lisbon and Mira and even Fischer had mentioned that it wasn't his fault. He hadn't listened.

When he did look, he saw Cho looking as close to excited at the stoic man could get, and Lisbon and Fischer and Agent Meller were leaning over his shoulders. They were reviewing the security camera footage from the funeral home, which they'd had to fight the director of the place for. He had been adamant that he didn't want to share it. As though he had a choice.

"It's all on here!" Fischer's voice was full of wonderment.

Now intrigued, he momentarily pushed away his feelings of self loathing and hauled himself off the couch, to wander over and stand behind Lisbon.

"What is?" he asked.

"The killers. There they are unloading the car from a trailer…. and there they are dumping Catalyn's body," Wylie explained, fast forwarding through the scenes in question.

He squinted at the grainy footage, zooming in and out on various things. "They're wearing ski masks and the van doesn't have a license plate, but we might be able to track it on neighboring cameras, if we have enough time,"

"How did they get away with no license plate?" Cho wondered aloud. His voice had returned to normal.

"It was dark," Jane said. "No one thought anything of it, because they probably drove back roads into town, and in town they drove without headlights on the side of the road; a lot of people might not have seen them."

"How do you know that?"

"It's what I would do," Jane said, grinning a little.

"Can you track it?" Agent Meller demanded of Wylie.

"Um, yeah, I think so," he said. "We'll need to get access to the footage on the front door of every building within a ten mile radius."

"Five." Jane corrected. All eyes in the room turned to him- Cho's uninterested, Lisbon and Fischer's looking about the same, curious (well, Lisbon's naturally were a bit more… loving, shall we say), and Agent Meller's annoyed. Wylie's look was… a little empty, to tell the truth, but curious. That kid needed to be more expressive.

Jane shrugged. "No plates, and only a short time slot to get from the funeral home to wherever it went to before dawn. It couldn't have gone further than that."

Agent Meller nodded. "I'll see to it," to she said, turning to leave.

She almost plowed Mira under on the way out of the bullpen; when she saw the consultant, her eyes narrowed and she hissed, "I'll be seeing to you later. I refuse to allow you to get away with this crap."

"I have exercised my expertise with "this crap", as you put it so un-eloquently, for years, and yet I am still free as a bird," Mira said, grinning affably.

"You won't be allowed to continue this misconduct," Meller stated.

"Oh, I believe I shall," Mira said smugly.

"Over my dead body," muttered Meller.

"That can be arranged," Mira said. She ducked out of Meller's range and shooed her out the door. "If you're going to see our fearless leader, make your way. I believe this is the perfect time."

With a final shove, Mira had her out into the hallway, and was on her way to Jane's couch, glass of iced tea in hand.

"Well! What have I missed?" she asked, plunking down on one end of the couch as though nothing had happened.

Jane chuckled. Maybe he was good at working people up, but he insulted them first. Mira was a master at insulting people with politeness- and nobody could do anything about it, because after all, she was just being "polite".

"We've found the perpetrators on the the security camera," Jane said. Mira stifled a smile. Her vocabulary was rubbing off on him. "Wylie's getting things around to track the van and see where it went."

"That is a nice break," agreed Mira, sipping her iced tea.

"What are you so smug about?" Lisbon asked of Mira. Jane smiled to himself- Lisbon was learning to read Mira's tells.

"Our fine agent Rudy has solved half of the case." she said calmly.

"What?" Fischer demanded.

"Rudy has a lead," Mira said again. She chuckled. "Goodness. You needn't stare. I'm sure Mister Abbott will tell you all about it once he's… free of ah, our fine team leader's… presence."

"Uh huh." Cho sat down at his desk. "What'd you do to Abbott?"

Mira looked honestly indignant. "How dare you, accusing me of misconduct against our own administrate?"

"You have that look Jane gets when he's up to something." Cho said. "After ten years I should know what it looks like."

Mira's looks dissolved into a smile. "I can't fool you, can I, Cho?"

Cho just sorta stared at her.

"I see. Well. It seems that Rudy and Jason," she gestured toward Wylie, who looked up at the rare use of his first name in the FBI headquarters, "got together to test a theory. They saw someone who looked suspicious casing the playground after the murder on the security camera footage. We've identified this person, who is a malefactor with a long record of his past double dealings. We're going to go have a chat with this fellow, as soon Abbott calms down."

"Calms down?" Lisbon looked very worried.

"It seems," Mira said, "that Mister Abbott saw fit to laugh his little head off when Rudy presented the idea." She smiled. "He promised not to be so rude again."

Before anyone could ponder just how that came to pass, Meller and Abbott came into the room together.

"Lisbon, Cho," Abbott said. "I want you two to go and get this fellow Agent Conlon found on the security footage. We have a warrant on him already from another department for forgery, and possibly murder. He jumped bail, so we can bring him in regardless. We're hoping this is him as well."

Lisbon and Cho took the information Abbott handed them and went out of the bullpen, after Lisbon glanced to Jane and said "Hey, behave while I'm gone," with a smile.

"Of course," he responded, far too innocently. She just smiled wider and followed Cho out of the bullpen.

"Uh, guys," Fischer hung up the phone, looking upset. "There's been another one."

Silence, dead silence, is what fell on the bullpen. Everyone looked morose, but especially Jane. He didn't even bother to hide it well this time.

Mira sat forward on the couch while Abbott barked orders and people began to make noise again.

"Patrick," she began, "None of this is your fault, do you hear me? Not one ounce of it. I refuse to allow you to entertain such an idea."

He didn't answer.

"I will be here to help if you need me. You are aware of that, are you not?"

"Maybe I should take the rest of the day off," Jane sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

Mira hesitated only a few seconds before placing a hand on his shoulder. "Patrick, look at me."

He didn't look.

"I mean it, Patrick. Look at me or I'll hypnotize you into it."

That did it. He looked.

"I was never the one who didn't show up. I was never the one who shut people out. I _always_ will be here to help, and I will tell you every step of the way not to blame yourself, and if you disbelieve it, that is your tough luck."

"This is your idea of helping me?" he asked, without looking at her. "Telling me I ran off and shut you out?"

"That is not my intention at all," Mira said, "but it is the truth, now that you mention it."

"I didn't… I mean…"

"I still care about you, Patrick. You were never there to help me, I didn't get to turn you away, but I was there to help you even if you didn't allow me to do so. I admit to being a little more self serving at the time, but I was never selfish."

"Are you accusing me?" Jane asked.

"No!" Mira said. "No, I'm only saying that I'm a different person now, even if you haven't been around to notice."

"Don't you ever feel guilty?"

"Excuse me?"

"She asked you if you thought it was safe."

Some of the color drained from Mira's face, but otherwise she showed no sign of whether the words effected her.

"Just what are you attempting to suggest, Patrick Jane?" Mira demanded.

"Angela begged me to quit, before it got too dangerous She asked you for a third opinion in the fight, she asked you if it was safe for me to do one more talk show. You said yes. Of course, it'll be safe. Nothing will happen, we had your word on it."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. Yes, it was true that Mira's judgement spurred him to go on the fateful talk show, it he was there just as much as she was, and he was the one who insulted a serial killer, thinking he was untouchable. He was just... venting.

He hoped she understood.

"I take umbrage at that remark!"

She didn't.

"I- I'm sorry, Mira, I didn't mean-"

"Save it for someone who cares to listen," she hissed, and she stood up and left the room before he could say another word.

He dropped his head into his hands again. This was the last thing he wanted. "Oh, no," he whispered.

**A/N: Uh-oh. Looks like Mira and Jane need to have a little chat. Guess what that'll mean... backstory time! Well, a little, anyway.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: You must be wondering what happened. For a while there it was a daily update, and then, boom! A week! What happened, you ask? Well, you know how I said I "update, albeit slowly" in the summary? So far it's been a fluke. This is more like my speed. You should probably get used to it. :)**

**This chapter may have typos... sorry. I proof read only once. I wanted to get this out there and start on chapter six.**

**(Besides, today is my birthday [29th of Sept.] and I wanted to publish it today). This is more filler and set up and explanation then action, as well as discussion between characters- development, I guess.**

**Enjoy!**

**p.s. The backstory thing... just got stretched out. Mira decided to pull a Jane on me and clam up; so you'll have to wait a little for more juicy information. ;)**

CHAPTER FIVE

Jane was forced to wait to talk to Mira. First things first, he and Fischer were being sent out to look at the crime scene. He tried to argue that the point was moot- it would look just like all the others, perhaps with a note to taunt him about the upcoming round three, and he didn't really want to dwell on what that might be.

Not to mention, the last thing he needed to see before trying to patch things up with Mira was a Charlotte look alike who had met with a hatchet. Heck, he shouldn't even _think_ about that before talking with her, let alone see it.

Sure enough, the crime scene was just as he'd predicted. The girl was in a playground as before, on the see saw- Charlotte used to complain, because adults were too big to fit on the see-saws at the park, but being an only child she didn't often have anyone to see-saw with. If she'd been able to fit, he had no doubt Mira would have see-sawed to Charlie's heart's content.

Geeze, he needed to stop thinking like that, is what he needed to do. He was making himself feel guiltier than he already did, lashing out at her, of all things. Of all _people._

By the time he and Fischer had finished up at the crime scene, it was pushing four-thirty in the afternoon. He knew he'd have to hurry to catch Mira before she went home.

And just when he was practically hopping around in impatience, one of the local PD came running out of the crime scene waving a small, black, _something_ in his hand.

"It's the suspects!" he was exclaiming, as though that made any sense at all to Jane or Fischer- who was, at that moment, trading questioning looks with Jane, as if she expected him to know what was going on.

Which, of course, he had absolutely no clue and couldn't have cared less.

Until he saw what it was the man was waving around.

It was a cell phone, playing a live video feed. And on said live feed was a man in a ski mask holding a hatchet to a little girl's throat.

"Patrick Jane?" he asked in a rough voice.

"Yes?" Jane answered, stepping into the cell phone's tiny front-facing camera's shot, and schooling his features into indifference.

"We want to talk to you."

"Go ahead." he said carelessly.

"In private."

Jane glanced around. "Oh, well, of course, we can-"

"We want you to come to the Sidestreet Cafe. We'll meet you there, table seven. And bring that cute brunette you're so friendly with."

Jane hoped he hadn't visibly blanched. Lisbon? Oh no!

"What was her name again? I think it started with a C…"

He breathed a mental sigh of relief. So, not Lisbon. The only brunette he knew whose name started with a C was… was Mira Colburn.

Oh boy. He needed to make up with her before he did anything with these hooligans.

"When?"

"Tomorrow. Four o'clock."

Jane nodded to the screen. "What about the girl?"

"Oh, yes. Would you like to speak with her?" the man pulled the hatchet away, scraping it lightly on her skin, drawing the tiniest drops of blood. The girl gulped when he grabbed her hair and whispered loudly by her ear, "Try any funny business, honey, and I'll cut your head off."

"Hi." Jane said to the little girl.

"Hi," she whispered, looking scared, but spirited. He stifled a sad smile. She sounded like someone he used to know.

"My name's Patrick. What's yours?"

"Sharlene," the girl said, louder now.

"That's a nice name," Jane said. "I'm going to find a way to get you out of there, okay?"

Sharlene nodded.

"Now ain't that sweet," taunted the man from somewhere just out of shot of the camera. Jane ignored him.

"You're going to be just fine, okay?"

She nodded again.

"Okay, enough with the heart to heart." The man shoved the girl out of shot and swaggered back into view. "You meet us, we let the girl go free. You don't meet us, I chop her head of." He twirled the hatchet around like a baton, looking bored. "That clear?"

"It is."

"Good. I expect to see you there."

The line went dead.

"Where did you find that?" Fischer demanded.

"On the ground near the body," the officer said. "I thought you should see it." He was slipping the phone into an evidence bag as he spoke, and handed it to Fischer. "See if you can do anything with this... you guys have better resources than we do."

Fischer accepted it, and nodded. "If you guys get anything, give us a call."

"Will do."

They turned and walked back to the SUV.

"You gonna meet him?" Fischer asked.

"Yeah, I am." Jane said.

"What kind of backup do you think you'll need?"

"I won't need it." he assured her.

"You don't carry a gun." Fischer pointed out.

"Mira does." Jane said.

"She does?" Fischer said, sounding surprised.

"Yeah. It's a concealed carry, but it'll be fine if it's self defence."

"And you think you can convince her to come? How well do you even know her?"

"Well, you know, we used to be friends… I still have some sway I suppose."

"Huh. Well, if you change your mind, call someone."

"I will." He was surprised that Fischer wasn't going to try and change his mind, but then again, Fischer knew him well enough by now to know it was pointless.

They drove back to the office in silence. Fischer didn't respond to his teasing like Lisbon did when in the car, and she wasn't that great a conversationalist. It was, overall, a boring drive, filled with Jane silently trying to find the best way to get Mira to listen to him.

He knew that getting Mira on your bad side was a dangerous thing. It wasn't good for you or her if she got angry with you. She was raised to never allow herself to become angry, but rather bottle the feeling up, pack it away, and let it dissipate. This meant that it built up over time- she never would openly express it, and she wouldn't want to talk about it. It had the tenancy to get nasty real quick. A simple argument like earlier… well, perhaps it wasn't so simple, but still… could become an all out cold war if they weren't careful.

It would be as much his fault as it was hers, and he wanted to avoid it if at all possible.

Jane hurried into the building as soon as the SUV was in park, leaving a bewildered Fischer behind. He entered the headquarters building and took the elevator to their floor, never once thinking about Fischer; who found herself coming in just as the doors closed, and was forced to take the stairs.

He came into the bullpen and flopped down on his couch, just in time to see Lisbon come in from the breakroom and begin to gather her things from her desk and chair.

"Hey Lisbon."

She jumped and spun around, hand reaching for her gun, until she saw who it was.

"Geeze, Jane! Don't ever do that!"

He grinned, unrepentant.

"Have you seen Mira?"

"Not since she went home." Lisbon glanced at him as she picked up the last of her stuff. "You coming?"

Jane knew she was referring to her- no, their new apartment. Once or twice, he had stayed at his airstream when he wanted some time to think, but that had been weeks ago, before he was used to spending his time with someone else 24/7; even someone he was in love with.

Mira had been there for five days, and she was questioning whether or not he wanted to spend his time with her. And, of course, he did want to and he would. Right after he figured out where the heck Mira lived and got in there to apologize, even if he had to pick the lock.

Somehow, he doubted Lisbon would be terribly receptive of the idea, and he wanted to keep the fray between Mira and himself. He owed her that much… for now.

"No, I'm gonna run a couple errands. I'll be back home in an hour or two," Jane said smoothly.

Lisbon nodded and said, "I'm gonna hold you to that."

He grinned. Yeah, that's what he'd thought she'd say. The translation from _Lisbon_ to Common English was something like _I'll come out and drag you home by your ears if you're lying._

"You won't need to," he assured her. "I'll be home before you know it."

Just to prove his point, he stood up, marched over to where she stood, and proceeded to kiss the daylights out of her. She blinked up at him when he pulled away, in need of air.

"You shouldn't do that at work," she said lamely, before initiating one herself, and making herself a total hypocrite. Then she smiled at the stunned expression on Jane's face, and sauntered away. He just knew she was throwing an extra swing into her hips on purpose.

Well. She didn't need to worry about whether he'd come home tonight _now... _not that she'd needed to in the first place.

He tried to clear his thoughts. Mira. Yes, that was it- he was going to apologize to Mira and then he was going back to the apartment he'd effectively moved himself into without asking, although Lisbon sure hadn't complained, and enjoy his evening with the love of his life. That sounded like a plan.

He met Fischer in the hall; she was huffing and puffing like a steam locomotive and was slightly red in the face.

"Hey," he greeted her. "You been working out?"

She cast him a glare. It didn't hold a candle to Lisbon's death glare, but for Fischer, it was pretty good. "Yeah, since someone made me take the stairs."

Jane realized the error of his ways right then, but of course, there was no need to tell her about it. "Really? Who?"

She gave him a flat stare. "Who do you think?"

"Me?" he exclaimed, looking to be just full of innocence. "I didn't force you to do anything."

"You didn't exactly hold the elevator either," grumbled Fischer, moving into the bullpen to collect her things and get started for home.

Jane smiled to himself and wandered down to Abbott's office. It only took him three seconds to get in, and three minutes to open the filing cabinet and pull out a file that said where Mira Colburn lived. The files that Abbott had handed out were irrelevant; she'd just recently arrived in Austin from Atlanta, and hadn't had more than a hotel room at the time they were printed out.

With an address in mind- permanently- he made his way outside…. and realized that he didn't have a ride, because Lisbon drove him to work. Whoops. Silently, he wondered if she knew that when she left. Well, of course she did, she drove him… she'd probably loved every second fooling him into his current stranded state. But, then again, judging by what they'd both been thinking of last time he'd seen her, she probably really had forgotten all about it. He sure had.

Ah, well, he'd just have to call a-

"Need a ride somewhere?"

He was startled beyond description but he didn't show it- true to form. He turned to see Fischer walking out behind him.

"Sure," he said, walking after her. He'd worry about how he was getting home later. At least he would get to his destination.

Twenty-five minutes later, Fischer was dropping him off in front of a gift shop two blocks from the address he'd memorized.

"You sure this is where you want to go?" She asked him, eyeing the shop, which was ten minutes from closing, warily.

"Yeah," he smiled. "Thanks for the ride," he said, and closed the door, walking away before she could do anything about it.

He made a great show of "entering" the shop, and by the time she rounded the corner in her car, he was heading towards the street on which there was a row of somewhat lavish town houses. The fifth one from the end of the street was Mira's.

He walked up to the door, took a deep breath, and knocked.

Mira watched idly from her white couch was Patrick Jane ambled down the other side of the street, crossed in front of the next door neighbor's house, and came up her front steps.

She heard him knock, but she did nothing, returning her eyes to her magazine.

The knock came again.

She heaved a sigh and took a sip from her glass of iced tea. "You may as well come in. I hold no delusions of keeping you out," she called toward the door.

It swung open, Jane walked in, and it swung shut.

"If I hadn't said anything about my opinion of you letting yourself in, would you have picked the lock anyway?"

Jane shrugged, wandering around somewhere behind her. "Meh, maybe."

"May I ask why?"

He came around in front of her. "We need to talk."

She smirked without looking up from the magazine. "We did engage in that activity earlier. Look what that has wrought."

He heaved a sigh and pulled the ottoman up from behind him to sit on, getting to her level. "You know, you said you're a different person now."

She glanced at him over the top of the magazine. "And your point would be?"

"Well, so am I."

She nodded, closing said magazine and tossing it over his head onto the coffee table. He ducked reflexively, causing her to smile a little. "I have no intention of decapitating you, Patrick."

He allowed a small, nervous chuckle. "Never can be too careful."

If she'd been hoping to relieve the tension, all she'd done was make it worse.

She sat forward a little on the couch, remembering to keep her knees together… always the lady. "That is one of the issues we… I face."

He looked questioningly at her.

"We used to be friends. We used to know each other. I have never been able to read you, nor have you ever been able to read me. We were friends as a result of a lot of effort to reach that point."

"And?" he prompted.

She shrugged. "It's as though you are someone new. I haven't the faintest idea where to start with you, Patrick. It is rather reminiscent of making friends with a stranger."

He nodded, and said with a rueful chuckle, "We are a little strange."

"You know how I am with _friends_, Patrick."

He arched an eyebrow at her, gesturing with one hand as he said, "I thought I didn't know you."

She sighed. "Some things never change."

He moved his seat to a spot beside her on the couch, sitting half against one arm so he could mostly face her. "Why don't you explain that?"

"I didn't have any friends before you, and I didn't have any friends after you."

He studied her. She still might not have known that he didn't actually blame her for anything, which meant that she might have been trying to get even with him in the blame game. He couldn't tell.

"Were you waiting for me?"

She almost let loose an unladylike snort. Almost. "Hardly. I simply lacked the wherewithal to do it again."

"So, what? Are you...blaming me for years of loneliness?"

She cast him an incredulous look. "Heavens no."

"Good."

They were silent for a moment.

"Who mentioned a thing about anyone being lonely?"

Jane just looked at her, hoping he was doing a good job of conjuring up an innocent expression.

"After all, perhaps my… sainted mother was right." She glanced in his direction. "Perhaps friendship is for marks. Perhaps you made me soft, and I've since recovered."

"Maybe," Jane agreed. "but I doubt it."

Mira scowled and leaned back in her seat. "As do I," she admitted, "but at least I made an effort to convince myself." She smiled a little wryly. "Dear me. Mother would be ashamed."

Jane chuckled. "You're nothing like your mother."

"Praise the powers that be," murmured Mira. "She did possess a real penchant for the thrill of a con." She turned an appraising eye on Jane. "How would you know about her? You never met her."

He grinned, "I think we had this conversation once before."

Her expression mirrored his. "I agree."

"What, fifteen years ago?"

"Thereabouts."

"What was it you said about friends?... 'I have no friends because I'm not friendship material'?"

"No," Mira corrected, "That was at first."

"Oh, right." Jane said. "So when we talked about friends and mothers, you said…" He gave her a prompting look.

"I do believe it was something to the effect of, 'I have no friends because I don't know how.'"

"Of course you do, " he said instantly.

"Prove it. " She returned.

"There's me." he said confidently.

"You don't count."

"There's Angela." This time she wouldn't have been able to hear him if he'd been any farther away from her.

"There was Angela," Mira said darkly. "No thanks to me."

Jane looked down at his hands. This was the part of the conversation he'd been avoiding, the part where he got to explain that he was irrational, didn't deal well with loss, and said stupid things when affronted because it was better than having people realize your weaknesses.

"About that." He still didn't look up from his hands. "I, uh… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" he trailed off, unable to find the words he wanted.

"Insinuate that the liability for the disaster rests solely upon my person?" suggested Mira.

"Yeah," he said softly. He glanced up and took a deep breath. "I've, uh, been blaming myself for so long to try and, you know, deal with it, that I guess…. I jumped at the chance to share it."

She smiled slightly. "I see."

"So… I guess I should, uh, apologize."

"That you should."

"I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted."

He looked at her shrewdly. "That was too easy."

She laughed a little. "Patrick, it is as you said. You are a different person now, as am I, and we are starting over. I need to reacquaint myself with you, and you with me. You are bound to offend me, and I assure you that you will soon take umbrage at some remark of my own. The least I can do is accept the apology and move on to more pressing matters."

"Such as?" He prompted her.

"My apologies." She said solemnly. "I am aware of this being no one's fault but Red John's, as are you, but regardless, I am sorry that I told you nothing would occur. I must say, this particular miscreant's reaction was... unexpected."

Jane didn't know what to say to that, so he just nodded, silently.  
>Mira stood up suddenly. "Good Lord, where are my manners? Can I interest you in some tea?"<p>

"Sure." He certainly couldn't say no.

She stood up and disappeared around a corner, presumably in the direction of a kitchen.

Jane used the time to study her townhouse. It was an older area of town- the house was probably built in the '20s or '30s. However, it was not outdated. Mira had lovely fashion sense; the house was quite tastefully decorated, however, it was all very impersonal. It could have been a photo from a magazine. There were no photos, no relics with memories attached to them… just a generic decor. Oh, it was a lovely decor alright, and probably very expensive- after all, Mira had always had a champagne taste regardless of her current budget. But it was rather bland, to be honest.

The couch was white, the walls were blue, the floor had a white rug with small green patterns here and there. A silver vase of white flowers sat on one end of the coffee table. The lamps were simple and elegant; the curtains were tall and cheerful- but nothing looked extraordinarily _like Mira_.

Speaking of Mira, she came sweeping back into the room with a tray of tea service to find Jane smelling her flowers. She hid her smile behind her hair, which fell around her face as she bent to place the tray on the coffee table. She knew he had to be wondering where they came from.

"Who are these from?" he asked. She smiled mentally. So predictable. She still knew him a little, anyway.

"My lovely neighbors welcomed me to the neighborhood with them," she lied smoothly. He didn't need to know they were from Rudy. He would tease the young man mercilessly until he would never want to speak to Jane or Mira again. Rudy had said his date hadn't shown up, and he didn't want them to go to waste, but she knew better. They were for her. She suspected Rudy was developing a bit of a crush on her.

"Nice of them," he commented, coming to sit down next to her and pour the tea. He didn't know if she was telling the truth or not, which was irksome, but familiar.

When he finished he sat back and watched her, sitting there with her iced tea in one hand and a deck of cards in the other. That was one of the things that hadn't changed- she played around with a deck of cards when she became bored. He wondered if he could amuse himself by palming the deck, complete with sleight of hand, while she was sipping her drink, but decided against it. She would get revenge.

"Well," he began, breaking what was starting to be an awkward silence, "maybe we should catch up. Since we don't really know each other and all." he said, grinning.

"Fair enough," she agreed. He saw the deck of cards disappear as if by magic out of her hand, from the corner of his eye. He knew she'd used sleight of hand to put the deck in her pocket but he didn't bother to point this out. After all, they both knew it and were also the only ones there.

"What happened with you and Stan?"

It was like someone took a sledgehammer to Mira's carefully built facade and put a huge dent in the middle of it.

"We've… gone our separate ways," she said carefully.

"C'mon, you guys were meant for each other," he said in a cajoling tone, knowing he sounded like a gossiping teenager but not caring in the slightest. Humor was how he handled delicate situations.

"I'm afraid our reunion would be against all odds at this point."

He stared at her for a long moment. Then his eyes flickered to the silver chain around Mira's neck.

And suddenly, he understood. One of the many things that had changed Mira Colburn: Loss.

Seeing his eyes, she pulled the chain over her head and held it out to him with a trembling hand. "Remember this?"

He took it gingerly. He did remember it. He was there when Stan Reeve gave Mira the promise ring and told her that he solemnly swore to propose to her when they were ready for that step in life. When he held it up before his eyes he could see that the chain was, in fact, white gold, rather than silver. The ring was also white gold, with a small row of diamonds at an angle along the very top. In the center of them sat a very green emerald, in the shape of a heart. The inscription glinted in the rays of wanning sun that came in the windows: "_With all my love: I will marry you some day, Mira Colburn!" _A small outline of a heart ended the sentence, flanked with Stan's name.

Yes, he reflected, that sounded just like Stan.

He raised his eyes to Mira's. "How?"

"Car accident." She shook her head. "On the way _to_ the bar. Of all the ways to go."

He dropped the chain over her head. "Was he going to…"

"Discuss the quirks of womankind?" She smiled a little, but it melted quickly away. "Yes, we… engaged in a difference of opinion and he followed his routine. Chat amongst his friend about how he'd never understand women, return home, kiss, and makeup."

Jane didn't know what to say. He'd liked Stan, an energetic but dignified and gentlemanly fellow from Kansas who made people feel special without even trying.

He said the only thing that came to his mind. "Damn."

"My sentiments exactly." Mira whispered.

They sat in a respectful silence for several moments before Jane said, "You could've called."

"I tried that. It was a futile effort."

Jane was about to protest, but instead he asked, "How long?"

"Seven years in June."

Whoops. He'd been stuck in a mental hospital about that time.

"Mira, I… you should know I wasn't around then because I was in a locked room."

Mira looked up in surprise.

He looked away. "I had a bit of a rough patch after, well, you know. I survived," he concluded with a shrug.

"I can see that." she said dryly. She hesitated. "Did you ever try to, ah," and she stopped, unable to say it.

"Yeah," he whispered.

"There's one thing we have in common." She almost smiled at the way his head jerked up so he could see her face.

"Because of Stan?" he asked. He'd done it because of Angela and Charlotte, but Mira hadn't even been married. If she'd attempted to end her own existence because of his loss, well, that would mean she dealt with loss even worse than he did.

"Of course not," she said, sounding almost indignant. "I am stronger than that."

He smiled a little at that. "I know you are." He took a sip of his tea, giving her a chance to say it. She didn't, so he prompted, "Why did you, then?"

She shook her head, standing abruptly and walking away. "I don't want to talk about this anymore." Her southern drawl was a bit strangled.

Well, it wouldn't do any good to force her.

He pushed himself up, set his cup on the coffee table, and walked over to her. He didn't touch her- he didn't do anything associated with people who were comfortable with each other, mainly because he didn't know if she was comfortable with him or not.

"Why don't we just start over?"

"And by that, what, exactly, do you mean?" Mira said, still facing away from him.

He walked over until he was in front of her. Then he put on his most charming smile and said, "Hi. I'm Patrick Jane." He dangled his FBI ID. "I work for the FBI as a consultant."

She smiled in spite of herself, eyeing the ID he held up. Then she held out her hand. "Mira Colburn, at your service, kind sir." She produced her own ID, after he'd released her hand. "I seem to share your delightful occupation."

She eyed his ring. "Dear me, the handsome ones are always taken," and she sighed dramatically. "Who might this lovely lady be?"

He offered her a sad smile. "She's passed away." he glanced down at his feet, then back up to her. "But uh, hopefully I'll be wearing a different one soon."

She offered him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry to hear that, but I hope you are, as well. All people deserve a second chance."

He laughed a little. "Optimistic, aren't you?"

"I try," she said easily.

They found themselves staring at each other for several moments.

They both realized it about the same time- the tension, the underlying tension that had surrounded them since they'd been seeing each other everyday- was gone. They found themselves looking at each other- not as Patrick Jane, Angela's husband; not Mira Colburn, showbiz Mentalist. Rather, Mira Colburn and Patrick Jane- FBI consultants.

Slowly, Jane grinned. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

She shook her head, smiling. "I suppose not." The smile faded, however. "I do apologize. I don't know why, but I just… I expected you to be the same, somehow. I dare say I needed someone to remind me."

"Well, I'm sorry too. Guess I didn't help much." Jane continued to study her, and then he just couldn't help himself. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in a hug, which she returned, still smiling.

"It's good to have you back," he said.

"I assure you, the feeling is indeed mutual." That was about as close to flat out _saying it_ as she'd get.

"You know, Lisbon is probably wondering what happened to me by now," Jane commented, finally, after several long moments of staring out the window.

"I presume this is your discreet method of inquiring as to whether I'd like to drive you home or you'll require a cab?" she said.

He just looked at her. She put her left hand behind her back, then her right. When she pulled her right hand out, it held her car keys. She flashed him a cheeky grin.

He gave her a mock scowl. "You overuse those, you know," he grumbled, following her to the door of her impersonal but expensive townhouse.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, still wearing that grin. "Overdoing things is my specialty, Patrick." She gestured out the door. "What is the saying? Ah, yes. Age before beauty."

He gave her a playful shove out the door. She feigned indignance and brushed at her sleeve. "Lord, please refrain from doing that. You'll get something on my clothes."

She led him around the back of the row of townhouses, to the garage, where he found a sunshine yellow vintage VW Super-Beetle in her parking space. He grinned; first at it, then at her.

"Can I drive it?" he asked.

She arched an expressive eyebrow at him. "Does Agent Lisbon allow you to pilot her car?"

"Not without a tranquilizer."

"My point exactly." With that, she slipped into the driver's seat.

Still chuckling, he headed for the passenger's door. Maybe this would work out after all.

"Rudy!"

Rudy spun around in surprise and almost spilled his coffee. He couldn't decide if he was relieved or worried that Jane was approaching him with a huge smile plastered on his face. On the one hand, he had no reason to be worried about Jane in particular, but on the other hand, according to Agent Lisbon, that smile was something to worry about. And Agent Lisbon should've known what she was talking about. After all, they were "together".

"Hi, Jane," he said, somewhat warily. He steadied his coffee with a second hand so it didn't slosh. Oh, why did people always sneak up on him? It was bad for his nerves!

"Uh, can I ask you a question?" Jane asked.

Rudy was about to make what he thought was a nice retort, but Jane interrupted him. "Yeah, I know, I just did. Can I ask you another one?"

Rudy tried to look perturbed, but it just wasn't in his nature. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Good. Do you know Robert Thompson?"

Rudy blinked blankly at him. "No."

"Oh. Well, then that's good news." And he started to walk away.

"Woah, hold it second!" Rudy exclaimed. "You can't just do that and walk off! Now, who is this guy? Should I know him?"

"Well, I was worried that he may have been your father." Jane explained.

Rudy's eyes widened. How did he know…?

Jane chuckled. "You were adopted, twice. The first time didn't go so well, with the Thompsons. The second time must have gone well, since you kept their last name."

"How'd you know that?" Rudy demanded.

Jane just tilted his head a little to one side and flashed him that infuriating grin, before stepping back and walking away.

Needless to say, Rudy was right on his heels.

"What about him?" he persisted.

"He's a murderer." Jane said.

Rudy gasped. "Really? Who?"

"The last two victims- the last girl and woman, he killed them." Jane said confidently, as they neared Team Two's bullpen.

"Well, where is he? Are we bringing him in yet?"

"Uh, yeah, that's the only problem, see, I don't actually have any proof that he did it." Jane said.

Rudy was confused. "Then how do you know?" he asked, as they came into the bullpen.

"That is, as it so appears, the million dollar question, whose answer I have been attempting to pry loose for the past twenty-five minutes of my life. It has been moot, as of yet." Mira said, from her desk. "To the best of my knowledge, my esteemed fellow mentalist here has developed a conjecture based on piecemeal substantiation, and has utterly no regard whatsoever for the rigors of the duties of a peacekeeper."

Rudy glanced at her, confusion evident on his face, whilst he tried to work out what that meant in it's entirety.

"She thinks I'm making it up," Jane explained.

"No, but you may as well be," said Mira, "for all the good a theory such as that will do us."

Rudy glanced between the two for a moment, unsure of what to do. Jane was fun, and charming, and made you want to break the rules sometimes. But on the other hand Mira was also fun and charming, but reserved, urbane, and, he admitted to himself, he was probably just a little sweet on her. Just a little.

He sided with Mira.

"Well, we do have to have evidence, Jane. We can't just go out there and tell him you think he did it without a good reason." he said as he walked over to stand beside Mira.

Jane shrugged. "Fine. Okay, have it your way, but tomorrow, I'm gonna have this guy in here for questioning."

"Why do you think he did it anyway?" Rudy wanted to know.

Jane grinned and motioned for them to remain where they were, while he hurried off into Team One's bullpen. He returned a few moments later with Lisbon and a laptop.

"Jane, what are you doing?" she was demanding.

"You'll see," he promised.

"Tell me!" she insisted.

"Aw, Lisbon, it'll ruin the surprise." he said.

"I don't like surprises," she retorted.

Jane directed Lisbon over to stand beside Rudy and Mira, against Mira's desk. Then he placed the laptop on a small filing cabinet and dragged it into the center of the room, before his audience, like a podium.

Lisbon rolled her eyes, Rudy look sceptical, and Mira smiled.

"This is Robert Thompson." He began, showing a photo of the man.

"So?" Lisbon said.

"Have patience," he instructed, pressing a key on the laptop. "These are the crime scene photos."

"Uh huh." Lisbon didn't get where he was going with this.

"Just look at these, Mira, and tell me what you see." he prompted, turning to look at his old friend.

"I see two very disturbing depictions of-"

"Read the situation," Jane said.

Mira gave a long-suffering sigh. "Crimes of passion. The others were pre-planned, but these last two weren't originally supposed to happen, which is why they've begun to make up rounds in between two and three to explain their actions."

Jane smiled. "Precisely." He changed the screen to show a video of a Robert Thompson, just interacting with family and friends, apparently. Lisbon was afraid to ask where that'd come from; she'd seen he and Wylie disappearing with a laptop and a pair of devious grins earlier that morning and she chose to pretend she hadn't.

"Jane, this is all-"

"Lisbon," he admonished. She remained silent for the time being.

"Now," he said, when the video was over, "what do you think about that?"

"I thought it was boring." Rudy said, a little tentatively. He glanced at Mira from the corner of his eye as if looking for reassurance. She flashed him a quick smile. Sometimes Rudy reminded her of Bailey Quarters from WKRP… in a male version, of course. She'd had a talk with him about putting himself out there and so far, it seemed to be helping.

"I think," Mira said slowly, "That Robert Thompson is both impetuous and injudicious. If we had some reason to believe he is connected to someone who is connected to these nefarious deeds, I would wager that we could pin this on him honestly."

"We do have," Jane said.

Mira raised her eyebrows. "And what, pray tell, is this connection?"

Jane shut the laptop and walked over to his audience. "The man on the live feed with the little girl." he explained. "You all know about him, right?" They all nodded. "Well, the girl, Sharlene, kept looking to her right just a little, as if she was both scared and surprised. Scared of someone, and surprised at someone- or rather, someone's actions. She must have known the person on her right, and the person on her right was likely in league with the man on the feed. So, someone she knew and trusted took her to her captors."

"And this doesn't means anything since we don't know who the person on the right is." Lisbon reminded him.

"Ah, but I do," he said, grinning.

"Who?" Rudy asked.

Jane only continued to grin. "Guess."

"Jane…" it was Lisbon's warning _Jane_, no doubt about it.

"No, really, guess."

Mira stifled her smirk and watched as Lisbon became more annoyed.

"Lisbon, come on, live a little!" he urged.

Mira decided to put her out of her misery for the time being. "The person on the right was Robert Thompson."  
>"And we know this how?" Lisbon asked.<p>

"Sharlene and her family have a family friend known as Robert Thompson." Jane smiled, obviously pleased with himself for having discovered this.

"That doesn't make him a kidnapper!" Lisbon said.

"He was reported missing the same day that Sharlene was. He took a suitcase of clothes and two thousand from his saving account."

Lisbon sighed. "But that's not proof, Jane."

"Not yet," he agreed, "but it will be."

"Ah, Patrick," Mira interrupted their discussion, "Didn't you say something about a four o'clock date?" She pulled a broach-watch out of her pocket and looked at it. "If you want to be less than fashionably late, we had best start now."

Rudy was sidetracked by the timepiece. "Wouldn't be better to wear a watch?"

Mira offered him a patient smile. "My dear Rudy, ladies do not wear watches."

Lisbon scowled and glanced her own watch. Good thing she wasn't a lady, then.

Jane chuckled, and leaned forward to give her a quick kiss. "Bye. We'll be back before you can miss us."

Lisbon allowed herself to un-scowl just long enough to return the kiss. "Don't get yourselves killed. And use that bug. Wylie and I will be listening and if you need help, Fischer and Cho and Meller are on standby, okay?"

"Okay." agreed.

"Just- don't do anything stupid, alright?" she said, softly.

"I'll be careful," he promised.

They headed off for Mira's car in silence.

The Sidestreet Cafe was shady at best and dangerous to one's health at worst, in a bad part of town, on a run down street in a run down building in a row of other run down buildings. It was very drab and just a little musty. In the far corner was the table they had been assigned to, and at it sat a little girl, flanked by two men- one from the video, and one named Robert Thompson.

Jane and Mira exchanged glances, before walking to the table. Jane pulled out a chair for Mira, scooting it in after he she was seated, before sitting down himself.

"Hello there, friends." said Robert dryly. "Good of you to come."

"Hello, Sharlene," Jane said, waving to the little girl. She returned the favor.

The man from the feed sat forward with his elbows on the table. "We're gonna be straight with you. We don't like you."

"We had gathered as much," Mira said, giving the man a flat stare.

"We also don't like you," Robert said to her.

"Oh? And why might that be?" she inquired.

"You're both supposedly special. Psychic, mentalist, what's the difference? All of you guys are gonna pay."

"You realize that a threat like that gives us probable cause to investigate you guys, right?" Jane said.

The men grinned. "Oh, investigate all you like, but you'll find nothing."

"What about this lovely lady?" asked Mira, nodding to Sharlene.

"You can have her." said the man, standing up from the table.

"And then we'll have proof that you took her," Jane said.

Robert smiled an evil little smile that sent chills through Mira. "We're untouchable," he said. "Check the security footage. We're innocent bystanders," and he laughed, without humor, and walked away, leaving Sharlene sitting at the table looking warily at the two people who remained.

"Well, Sugar," said Mira, offering her hand and a smile to the little girl, "let's return you to your concerned progenitors."

**A/N: If this left you feeling a little confused, don't worry. Ir probably should. I promise things will start to become connected and understandable in chapter six!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Yup. It's been a while. Well, don't worry, I won't give up on any stories if I can help it. It's been a hectic two weeks. Very hectic. Hundereds of miles of travel, and no time to write during them (and I can't access Google Docs on my Windows Phone anyway, so I couldn't write if I'd had time to). Lots of chores and household projects and stuff. Guitar and Uke and dance and stuff to practice... yeah.**

**Anyway, if it's got a typo or is disjointed somewhere, let's blame it on that, shall we? Good.**

**I know main OCs are a pet peeve with many so I'm trying to keep a perfect balance between canon and fictional. This is getting harder to do, so I'm asking: Would you like me to swing the story a little towards Jane and Lisbon, or a little more towards Mira and Rudy?" Your call, you're my readers after all. :)**

**I decided to go all Columbo on you and show you come bad guys. Hope you don't mind... Oh. I realize that in mixing Friendship and romance and crime I have made it hard to remember details. Allow me to offer a refresher course:**

**1. Someone is going around murdering girls and women who look like Charlotte and Angela with hatchets, and left a note for Jane which said that while they were sorry they missed round one, round two was fun as well, and that they couldn't wait for round three. 2. Someone has started doing what Jane and Mira agree are unplanned murders, and have started up making up rounds in decimals so that they can explain them without getting to the mysterious round three. 3. This someone appears to be Robert Thompson, because of his connection to one Sharlene, a little girl who was kidnapped and used to make Jane and Mira meet with the kidnappers. 4. Appearances can be very deceiving.**

**One last thing: Jane and Lisbon's little conversation was written so many times over I just left it like it is. I still don't like it, but there's not that many heart to hearts on the show I remember that I can pull from here.**

**Anyway, hope you like. :)**

CHAPTER SIX

_A small, foreclosed-upon bungalow outside of Austin_

Robert Thompson glanced to his brother, Bill, for direction. "What're we gonna do about this?"

Bill thought for only a moment, before he gestured toward the bungalow they stood in front of.

"Take him inside," he said.

So, Robert took the 14-year-old boy, who was toting a hunting knife in a knapsack, by the arms and hauled him bodily towards the house.

"Why didn't we plan for this, Bill?" he asked.

"I told you, who thought the kid would come after his sister? It's ridiculous." Bill said.

"I want my sister back or you guys'll be sorry!" the kid exclaimed again. Bill was getting tired of hearing him say that. Twice had been enough; three was one too many. He hit the kid upside the head and knocked him out.

Robert grunted under the added strain of the kid's weight. "Bill! Warn me first, will ya?" he grumbled.

"Yeah, sure," Bill returned, going ahead to open the door for his brother.

They drug him inside and dumped him unceremoniously on the rug in the middle of the living room. Leaving Robert to tend to their charge, Bill went over to Sid, who was furiously working away on his laptop.

"Find anything?" inquired Bill.

"Yep," Sid said. "Two more," and he handed a of couple of print-outs to Bill.

"Good," smiled Bill. He pinned them on a bulletin board on the other side of the room.

"I want my sister back, you idiots," said the kid. Bill turned around, sighing. Crap, he'd come to.

"Well, you already have her back, so now who's an idiot?" he taunted. Really, 'idiot'? That was the best the kid could come up with?

"What do you mean?" the kid said.

"We let her go, kid," growled Robert. "Now we gotta figure out what to do with _you_."

"Sharlene is free?" repeated the kid.

"Yeah yeah, kid, she's free." said Bill. "In with them FBI fellows about now."

"Well, you let her go. Might as well let me go too, right?" The kid said, hopefully.

"Nope. See, she didn't know anything. You, on the other hand, know a whole bunch, and you've just screwed things up royally."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Uh oh."

"Exactly." Robert got down on the kid's level. "Now. The question is, what are we gonna do with you?"

"I, uh, have a few suggestions," began the kid, but was interrupted by the phone ringing.

"Answer it, Sid!" ordered Bill.

Sid answered it, before holding it away from his ear and covering one end with a hand, calling, "It's Mr. Sullivan!"

Everyone, including the kid, was on their feet and running for the phone in an instant.

"Not you!" Bill hauled him back by the collar of his shirt, before stepping up to the phone and taking control of it.

"Hello, Mr. Sullivan…. yes, yes, we do. Yeah, three so far, total. Yeah, we'll meet the quota, don't worry about it. Uh huh. We'll see. Who? Oh, him. I told you, I wanted to take care of that one my own way. Got a bit of a personal…. vendetta, so to speak. Opportunity's too good to pass up, sir. Yup. Oh, don't worry, we're just innocent bystanders, far as the law's concerned. Will do. See ya."

He hung up the phone, turning to Sid. "Get a move on, will you? We still got ten to find!"

Sid was back at his laptop in an instant.

"How do you do that anyway?" asked Robert. "There a database for mentalists or something?"

Sid laughed. "No, but if you know what you're doing, it's not hard to find 'em. Just look for psychics and do what Mr. Sullivan said, figure out if they're real or fraud. If they're real, I leave 'em, and if they're fake, I list 'em."

"Wonder why he wants them gone," said Robert. "After all, if he's really psychic, he shouldn't have to worry about people who aren't really."

"Well, he does, apparently," returned Sid. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "I think I got another!"

Bill took the print out as it was pushed out of the printer deck, and headed for the board with it.

"Why are we doing this, Bill?" Robert suddenly called. "I mean, this is pretty boring."

"Geeze, Bob," groaned Bill, "I told you, we need the money, now shut up will you?"

"Robert!" exclaimed the owner of the name. "I'm not 'Bob', I'm Robert! How many times have I told you that?"

"Well, sorry, but you always used to be Bob," Bill defended himself.

"I was kid then! Besides, you don't let me call you Billy anymore either," Robert said.

"Fine, fine," Bill relented, the horrors of being referred to as Billy reminding him why his brother desired to remain as Robert, "You're Robert then. Happy?"

"Yup," Robert said.

"Good, now shut up."

Robert shut up, and Bill turned his attention back to the kid on the floor. "Well, we can't keep you here. As far as they're concerned, we're innocent- we've made sure of that. And you would produce evidence."

"I promise not to tell," the kid exclaimed, suddenly very wary of the look in his captor's eyes.

Bill shook his head. "Sorry kid, won't do."

"Uh, guys?" Robert's voice said.

"Shut up, Robert." Bill ordered. He didn't look away from the kid.

"Yeah, but, guys-"

"Shut up!" Bill yelled.

Robert shut up, alright, but it wasn't his idea. He had been cowering between the window and the door, looking at a figure clad all in black come up the walk. When the door was flung open, he was smashed thoroughly behind it, and pushed through the glass of the window, landing in an awkward heap amongst the bushes below.

Inside, a man in black burst into the room. He had no weapons, but he didn't need any. Sid only took one look at him before trying to dive out of the room. It didn't work. The man caught up with him and flung him headlong into the nearest wall. He grabbed the kid off the floor by the collar and marched out of room, but not before sending a punch to the stomach of Bill, who was standing to one side with his mouth open, for good measure. He left, slamming the door behind him.

When Bill straightened from his doubled over position, he eyes landed on Sid, who lay in a pile beside the wall- which, ironically, now sported the impression of his head and shoulders.

"Sid! Sid, can you hear me? Sid! Say something!" exclaimed Bill, kneeling beside the man. He pulled a bandana from his pocket and pressed it against a cut on Sid's head. When the black eyes slid open, he took Sid's hand and pressed it firmly against the bandanna. "Hold that," he ordered. "You'll be fine and I'll be right back."

He scrambled outside to locate his brother and found him the middle of bushes, covered in glass and little cuts. Crap, that had to hurt.

He drug him inside and dropped him on the sofa on the far side of the room. After considering his options for a few moments, he decided that even if it was painful, pouring a little alcohol of some kind onto the wounds before breaking out the bandages would be necessary.

This he did, and with much concern over his brother's non-responsive state, he turned to Sid.

"You doing okay?"

"Yeah," Sid said, "'Cept for seein' double."

"Concussion." said Bill.

"Yeah," said Sid.

After a moment of silence, Sid said, "Hey, I know that guy."

"What?" Bill said.

"I know that guy," repeated Sid. "I used to work for him. I stole some money from him and he said if he ever found me he'd make hell for me." Suddenly, he sat straight up, despite the waves of dizziness that had been keeping him down. "The kid! He okay?"

Bill shook his head. "He took him."

"Oh, no!" groaned Sid. "That's it! He's gonna turn the kid in and say we kidnapped 'im and tell 'em where we are!"

Bill and Sid traded horrified glances. Then they sprung to action. Sid staggered to his feet none too steadily and Bill picked up his brother. Sid gathered the laptop and bulletin board and headed for the car out back. He hoped no one had cut the tires or the spark plugs or something.

They loaded into the car and drove away, hearing the sound of sirens in the distance and feeling very lucky indeed about their sense of timing.

"Do you wanna call Mr. Sullivan, or shall I?" asked Bill.

Sid groaned. "He's gonna kill us!"

_Meanwhile; FBI Headquarters_

Sharlene sat still on Jane's couch. She didn't do anything- she didn't look around her, she didn't talk, she didn't move, she didn't appear to think either. She just sat there. The only thing she was doing, was apparently, being infatuated with the floor beneath her dangling feet.

Team One was standing around in Team Two's bullpen, watching her through the break room doors. Team Two was behind them- with the exception of Meller, who had stared at the girl with a very odd expression, before she visibly forced her stoic expression back and marched purposefully to her desk.

Lisbon stood at the front of the group. Rudy and Jane were on her left, Mira was on her right with Cho and Fischer. Wylie was still at his desk, trying to learn something about the girl.

Lisbon knew what everyone else knew. Someone or thing had happened to the little girl. While she was physically unharmed, save a small bruise here and there and a tiny cut on her neck that required no attention, she was harmed emotionally. That much was clear.

They still didn't know who she was. She was adamant that her name was Sharlene, and even corrected Rudy when he wrote it in the common spelling, beginning with a C. But otherwise, she didn't know or wouldn't say her last or middle name. She didn't know or wouldn't say where she was from or who her parents were or if she had anyone looking for her or who had abducted her... nothing.

Lisbon, Fischer, and Rudy had tried talking to her, but to no avail. Jane had managed to get her to admit that she liked horses and pink, and that she was very much amused by his coin tricks. He'd even taught her one. But when he steered the conversation toward her identity, she clammed up.

Lisbon knew what it was like to be young and have adults hovering around you, trying to help. When her mother was killed, police officers had wanted to know where her father was, whether she and her brothers needed to go to foster care. She'd lied to keep them out. She'd been determined to remain independent and away from any orphanages or inconsiderate foster families, keep what was left of their family together. She wished this little girl was less stubborn than she had been.

"I don't know what we should do," Fischer said finally. "She insists her name is Sharlene, but the files say her name is Cathy Dawson. And there's only one relative we could find, and she's dead. We're gonna have to call social services soon."

"I know," Lisbon sighed. She didn't want to send the poor, frightened child off to some foster care center, but, well, there didn't appear to be any options. She remembered vividly the horrors of foster care after her father died. She hated being the reason anyone had to go through that. "I think someone should give it one more shot."

Jane started to say something, but she stopped him with a look. No one was gonna say no to this without answering to her first.

Agent Meller came up behind them. "Maybe I could help," she said.

Everyone stared at her in shock, including Jane and Mira. But not Cho. He just looked her over for a second or two and said, "I'll help you."

The two nodded to each other and started through the break room, towards the other bullpen.

Mira stepped up behind them. "Y'all are worse than General Sherman on a Georgia plantation."

Meller turned her patented bravado-melting glare on Mira. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"My dear Cho," Mira began, stepping closer and turning her attention on her lone ali, "please, don't take this the wrong way, but you occasionally lack the… essential skills of… tact and diplomacy."

Meller's glare became impossibly more scalding, while the others watched from the relative safety of the bullpen doorway. Lisbon had to wonder if Mira had a deathwish.

"And just what does _that_ mean?" demanded Meller.

Mira winced slightly at the tone, while Cho said, "I think she said we're rude."

Mira arched her eyebrows in mock innocence. "Rude? No, rude would be a definite improvement. I'm saying that you are brash, and tough, and you scare people. And, perhaps, terrifying this young progeny won't at all help the situation we face at present."

Lisbon held her breath. This was where Meller either suspended her errant consultant, or stood down in the face of the polite insult.

"And you think you can do better." It was not a question.

Mira returned the hard stare she was getting. "Yes, ma'am, I do."

Cho wisely remained silent as the scene unfolded.

Meller stepped back and gestured to the door, smiling that professional smile of hers, although Lisbon thought it was a little more human this time. "By all means." she said, purposefully mocking the phrase Mira often used. Lisbon smiled in spite of herself, following after to listen discreetly in as Mira took a shot at getting something from the little girl. She doubted the success of the mission very much, but any way, it would have a better chance than Meller and Cho had had.

Mira nodded, smiling, and gave Meller a two-fingered salute, half joking. "I appreciate this immensely, thank you." She said. Meller nodded and she stepped through the bullpen doors.

Mira, following in her pattern of never wearing anything particularly professional, had been wearing a long duster coat over a white dress. The coat was a dusty rose sort of color, with no buttons or pockets, and came to her ankles. She'd given it to the child, who had no jacket to combat the spring air, when they left the cafe earlier. It was still wrapped tightly around her shoulders, leaving Mira clad in her white dress and matching heels.

Mira swished over to the couch and paused in front of it. "Pardon me, miss," she drawled politely. "May I sit down?"

Sharlene glanced up at her and scootched a little to one side on the couch, but she didn't say anything.

Lisbon watched from the break room as Mira apparently took that as a yes and sat down next to the little girl.

"So, Miss Sharlene," she began, "How are you this fine day?"

Sharlene didn't respond. Lisbon sighed mentally, it looked like this wasn't working.

"Oh, Goodness, do excuse my terrible manners," Mira said suddenly, sounding slightly agitated by… something. She held a hand out to the little girl. "Mira Colburn," she introduced herself.

Lisbon was surprised. Judging by the child's state of dress, she'd assumed that the girl and Mira were already acquainted.

Sharlene eyed the hand for a moment before, very hesitantly, placing her hand in it. "Hi." she said. "I knew who you are though."

"I think not," Mira said. "You knew my first name, yes. But you didn't know my last name."

"Does it matter?"

Mira looked scandalized. "Why, dear me, of course it does, Sugar! A lady never leaves her introductions half-completed." She paused to study the little girl. "And you are a little lady, are you not, my dear?"

Sharlene hesitated, then shrugged, but couldn't keep from glancing down, where she saw her ankles crossed and her knees together- the way ladies sat.

"Of course you are," Mira said, following Sharlene's gaze. "So, do tell me, what is your name, Sugar?"

A frown creased Sharlene's brow. "Well, it isn't 'Sugar'."

Mira smiled. "I am aware. However, that fails to answer my inquiry."

The girl looked puzzled.

"It doesn't answer my question." Mira translated.

"Oh." But Sharlene made no move to answer the question.

Lisbon suspected Mira was going to have to sweeten the pot to being more than just a lady, if she wanted answers.

"If you could be an animal, what sort of animal would you choose to become?"

Sharlene glanced up at Mira for the first time since she'd sat down. "A dolphin."

"Why?"

Sharlene shrugged her slim, rose-coat-clad shoulders. "I like water."

"The ocean, especially, I presume?"

Sharlene nodded, and Mira smiled.

"I also enjoy oceans, and water in a general sense. That's what my name means- 'ocean'."

"Really? Which one?" Sharlene asked.

"My first name. That's why Mama chose it… she loved water and the coast."

"What does my first name mean?"

Lisbon frowned. She knew what Sharlene meant because one of her brother's daughter's names was Charleen, with a _C_ and two _E's_. It was just a "feminine diminutive of Charles" and that meant "manly". She hoped Mira wasn't going to say that.

"I'm not positive, but if it were my choice, it would be defined as 'sweet'."

_Nice save,_ Lisbon thought, smirking a little to herself.

"Why?" Sharlene now asked the one-worded question.

"Because that's what you are," said Mira.

Sharlene smiled a little, and Mira's smile widened at the sight. "Thanks. Does your last name mean anything?"

Mira nodded. "Yes, yes it does. It can be translated to 'cold brook'."

Sharlene said, "So both your names mean water."

"Yes, that they do."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment.

"Do you think my last name has a meaning like that?"

"Oh, I'm sure it does." Mira said with confidence.

"And you could tell me?"

"Of course I could, if you would be so kind as to tell me what it was, Sugar."

"If I tell, will you stop calling me 'Sugar'?" The little girl asked, looking very cross indeed about the new name.

Mira laughed. "Well, I will certainly endeavor to try, but I'll not make promises which I am not certain I can maintain."

Sharlene nodded slowly, looking like she didn't really understand what Mira just said but taking it as a yes just the same, "Okay. My name is Sharlene Matthews."

Mira nodded her head in a testament to her understanding. "That, darlin', means 'gift of God'."

Lisbon smiled at no one in particular, about no one thing. She smiled because she thought Mira was good with kids. Because she could tell Jane she'd watched someone do something he'd failed to do only moments before. Because now they at least knew who this child was. Because she realized that Mathew meant gift of God, but Matthews, the last name, was actually an entirely different story, and Mira had lied anyway.

Because it was turning out Mira wasn't so bad after all. A little hard to understand maybe, but nice to work with.

She was still upset that they'd have to turn the girl over to social services. No child should have to be there, to live with people who wanted you for the money, and otherwise really didn't care at all what happened to you. As long as you were alive and not costing them much more than usual, they were fine with you. It really did hurt. And at least she had been a teenager. Sharlene was so young for that, so impressionable. It wasn't fair at all.

She was about to go into the bullpen to alert the others of Mira's success when she heard Mira's voice again. She paused, considering whether or not she should continue to listen in. At this point, the conversation wasn't any of her business, and she was just happy that she'd learned who the girl was. A glance to Wylie, who was at the far end of the bullpen on his computer, and seeing his wink and smile suggested that he'd found something as well, so there was no need to eavesdrop. But she wanted to. She heaved a mental sigh. She must've been hanging around Jane too long, she reasoned, and then smiled to herself because that was not an entirely bad thing. After all, she loved the man.

"My darlin' girl," Mira's voice said, and Lisbon settled for standing out of seeing range, just where she could hear what was said. "May I ask of you a favor?"

"What kind?" asked Sharlene.

"A personal question." There was a moment of silence; presumably Sharlene produced some kind of non-verbal cue that said yes, because Mira asked, "What prompted your secrecy?"

"What?"

"Why wouldn't you tell me?"

After Mira's clarification, there was a very pregnant pause. Lisbon had finally turned away, certain the conversation had ended, when she heard Sharlene's small voice.

"She… Momma… she made me promise not to tell. She said that I'd hurt more if they knew who I was, but she didn't say who they were, so I just thought…" the voice trailed off.

"You decided that complete confidentiality was in order?

Lisbon doubted the little girl really knew what that meant, but she still heard the sniffled, "Yeah."

Then she heard nothing but silence, and decided that now was as good a time as any to regroup. She hoped someone in the other bullpen had had the forethought to start reviewing the footage they'd recovered from the lone security camera on the street of the Sidestreet Cafe.

She walked into Team Two's bullpen and was greeted with an interesting sight. Jane was sitting at Mira's desk, unashamedly prying into her personal life, no doubt. Meller and Cho, who for some reason were starting to act as though they actually liked each other to some degree, were sitting at her desk, looking at her computer. Rudy was at his desk, trying to look busy; but he kept looking at the door, his curiosity almost palpable, no doubt about what was going on with the girl and Mira. Fischer sat off to one side, looking out the window. She made no pretense to pretend she was busy.

Lisbon marched in and said, "Okay, guys, we need to check that security camera footage. Mira got a name out of Sharlene, and Wylie's on it." She purposefully ignored the surprised expressions of… well, everyone, at the latest announcement.

"We're already on it," Cho said, gesturing to the screen before he and Meller. Lisbon walked over to them, hoping they found something. As if reading her thoughts, Cho said, "Looks like they were right about what they told Jane. There's no evidence that they had anything to do with the kidnapping of that girl."

"Well, what is there?" Lisbon asked, frustrated.

"There's a van pulling up and dropping off Sharlene, that's what." Meller said. "Then it drives off and she walks inside. About ten minutes later the Thompson brothers walk in. You can't see the the license plate on the van, it's covered, and it has no distinguishing marks."

"So the brothers were right. There's no evidence that links them to the kidnapping." Lisbon was definitely unhappy with that turn of events. Someone was being very careful.

"Guys!" Wylie came bursting into the room, gesturing towards the bullpen behind him. He froze when everyone looked at him, offering them a slightly embarrassed smile.

"What?" Jane broke the silence.

"I found out who she is."

No one had to ask who "she" was.

"Well, who?" Asked Fischer.

"I think you guys should just come in and see," Wylie said, gesturing vaguely towards his desk. "But you might want to, um, wait a minute."

"Why?"

"Uh, well, they're having a, uh, a...moment."

"A moment?" Lisbon repeated.

"What kind of moment?" Asked Jane.

"Uh, well, you know... a moment." Wylie repeated, looking somewhat embarrassed.

Jane and Lisbon traded glances, and when both were equally confused, they shrugged and walked toward the bullpen.

They were met by Mira in the breakroom. "I'm afraid I have a saddening piece of news."

"What?" asked Lisbon, suddenly feeling wary. Mira had said 'saddening'. She could've said upsetting, or disturbing, or untimely, or unfavorable, or any of the other ridiculous adverbs or adjectives she had memorized, but no, she used "saddening". Lisbon didn't think that was good at all, although she wasn't sure why. She glanced at Jane out of the corner of her eye to see if he agreed. She thought he might look vaguely concerned, but she couldn't really tell. She didn't know why she continued to look at Jane for emotional reactions when she knew she wouldn't find any. Probably the same reason he continued to look at her watch when he knew it annoyed her.

"It seems out young charge has witnessed something most disturbing." Mira said.

Uh oh, well, there was 'disturbing'. Lisbon didn't think this was going to bode well, whatever it was. "What is it?" she asked.

"She was held down and kept quiet whilst her mother was treated in a distinctly ungentlemanly fashion by their captors. She was then… put out of her misery. Sharlene was whisked off by her mother's former best friend."

Lisbon swore. She couldn't help it. She'd pretty well come unglued when she'd found her father, after he'd hung himself. She remembered the nightmares that wouldn't end, the pictures in her head that wouldn't go away. If she'd watched her own father in the act of the killing? At the hands of someone else? She didn't want to contemplate that for very long.

Wait, "treated in a distinctly ungentlemanly fashion"? It took Lisbon a moment to unravel that in her head. Oh, God, the mother was r…. no. No, she wasn't going to think about it.

Sometimes, she hated her job.

"What do you think we should do?" Lisbon surprised herself with the question, even more so considering who she was asking.

"She needs a friend, Agent Lisbon." Mira eyed the forlorn figure on Jane's couch with a distant expression. "It is not something I am prepared to offer her."

She turned and walked away abruptly. Lisbon was… baffled.

"Ah, if I were you in your undesirable position, Agent Lisbon, I would call social services. Be sure to tell them she'll be in need of a counselor… what she has seen is not easily erased." Mira paused halfway out of the room, turning around to speak, before backing out quickly and disappearing around the corner.

Okay, now Lisbon was even more baffled. But this wasn't the time for that… they had to call social services. Lisbon was almost to her desk when Wylie came over. "Wait a minute- don't do that yet," he said. "I want to show you this first." He gestured towards his desk.

Lisbon nodded and followed, with Cho on her heels. Jane glanced between her and the door Mira had just disappeared through, before catching her eyes. His silent question was meant for her judgement: _Do I need to come with you, or should I ask her where she's going?_

Lisbon nodded her head towards Wylie's desk ever so slightly. He nodded back and followed her. She didn't think there was anything horribly strange about Mira's behavior, anyway, and Jane needed to see whatever had Wylie in a tizzy.

Wylie sat down in his chair and spun around to face his desk. He turned on the monitor and gestured to what came up… it was file on a woman named Donna Matthews.

"This is Sharlene's mother," he said. "She and her husband and two children were in witness protection. Her father ran with a drug cartel for a while, but when his family was threatened he pulled out, ratted out some of the players and was put into protection. The rest of the cartel was, as far as we know, holding a grudge."

"This doesn't have anything to do with the cartel," Jane said. "This has everything to do with me. Someone is taunting me, and they're using innocent people, like that little girl, to do it."

"Jane, we know. Calm down," Lisbon said, stepping closer to him, for moral support if nothing else. She'd been unable to get him to talk about any of this since that day on the couch in the bullpen, and she thought he needed to talk about it. He was worse than a clam, sometimes.

"Well, uh, the files have their DNA and fingerprints under false names to protect their identity. Legally, she's still Sharlene Matthews but according to the files she's Cathy Dawson. The husband, Harry Matthews, is missing in action right now."

"What do you mean, the husband is missing in action? They don't know where he is?" Jane sounded incredulous.

"Well, they have an idea," Wylie answered Jane's question. "But they don't have time to go chasing after him."

"Yes, but they're supposed to be protecting him." Jane reminded them. "If we think he would care for Sharlene, we need to find him and see about getting her back to him."

"That's social services' job," Lisbon said. "And I'm going to call them." she glanced at her watch. "And when they get here, we can go home. It's five thirty already."

Jane nodded silently, allowing his eyes to stray to the figure on his couch.

"Maybe you should talk to her," suggested Wylie.

Jane shook his head. "No, I think not. If she was betrayed by a best friend who was male, she won't want to have any heart to heart discussions with men."

Wylie just said, "Oh."

Agent Meller came in, walking in that professional, heel clicking fashion she always did. "Have you seen Colburn?" she inquired. Lisbon noted, absently, that her voice still went lifeless when she mentioned Mira's last name.

"She probably went home," she said, as she picked up her phone and began dialing a number.

Meller glanced around, then nodded stiffly and walked out. Jane and Lisbon traded glances; both shrugged and went on with it.

Social services came and picked up Sharlene, agreeing to allow someone to talk with her about anything they needed to know later. They also said they'd try to find her father and determine if he was a suitable guardian.

Lisbon, meanwhile, gathered her things for the evening and asked Jane if he was ready to go.

"Yes, I am," he said, standing up from his couch.

"No, you're not," said a new voice. They glanced up to see Abbott walk in. "We finally found that fellow Agent Conlon saw on the security footage from the second murder. He's in Interrogation Three, and I want Agent Lisbon and Jane in there."

Lisbon gave a resigned sigh and dropped her things to the desk. She knew Jane wouldn't be so easily dissuaded, so she waited to hear his voice from behind her

It didn't take long.

"But, sir," Jane said, "It's quitting time. We were going home."

"'Were' is the key word, Jane," Abbott said dryly. "Get going."

"My thoughts exactly," grinned Jane.

"Get going to Interrogation Three," clarified Abbott, who was apparently anticipating the move.

Lisbon smirked. Apparently Abbot was getting caught up on Jane's mind games… of course, that one was small scale.

Jane sighed and nodded, apparently conceding.

They headed for Interrogation Three in silence, and overheard the conversation from the observation room as they walked into it.

"Isn't this exciting?"

"Positively thrilling."

"I mean, that's the guy I picked out, and here he is, all because of me!"

"Yes."

"It kinda makes you feel important."

"I suppose it would."

"Brings things into perspective."

A very composed Mira turned to look at a very grinning Rudy. "You didn't get out much when you were on the police force, did you?"

Rudy frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Mira then saw Jane and Lisbon observing them- Amused and impatient, respectively. "Ah, Patrick." She diverted the conversation from Rudy's question. She steered Jane to stand beside her coworker. "You can remain here to observe whilst Agent Lisbon and I catechize this miscreant."

"We're going to give him religion?" Rudy asked in a puzzled voice.

Lisbon chuckled. Sometimes, Rudy was easily… misled. Sometimes she wondered how he'd lived to his late twenties in that condition. It was no wonder Jane called him a "kid", and it was also no wonder that Rudy hated the name. After all, he was hardly a kid.

"No, my dear Rudy, we are going to ascertain the veracity."

"Ohh-kay," Rudy said slowly. Lisbon could almost see him mentally translating the statement into something he could work with.

"I thought Abbott wanted me in there," Jane said.

Mira waved a dismissive hand. "That of which Mister Abbott remains unaware is not of his concern."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," Jane translated, for anyone who was confused.

"And besides," Mira grinned, "I have not interrogated a suspect in almost six years. It is high time for me to regain my skills."

Lisbon didn't like having Jane and Mira plotting against Abbott one bit. Sure it was small now, but give them an inch and they'd take a mile.

"I think we should let Jane do his thing. You can have the next one," said Lisbon.

"Yes, Mira," Jane added, "I do want to do this one. After all, I have a… a bone to pick, as they say."

Mira tapped him on the arm. "Precisely." She turned to Lisbon. "If he enters into the fray, he'll go bad cop on our miscreant and our evidence will be pointless, as he'll have admitted under duress."

Lisbon sighed. She knew Mira was just trying to appeal to her "by the book" personality, which Jane always said she had, but it didn't really matter since she knew Mira was right.

"Fine."

Mira smiled and walked over to the door that led to the the interrogation room.

Lisbon sighed in resignation and followed.

Jane watched through the glass as Mira sat down next to Lisbon, complacently allowing her to take the lead. Lisbon found this man to be nothing more than a hit man hired by whoever the perpetrators were… if he was a man. He was very young for his rap sheet.

He said his first name was Johnny. This was true. He refused to say his last name, but no one pushed since they knew that from his rap sheet. This was probably a testament to his intelligence, as Jane would see in hindsight.

Lisbon easily obtained information from the man, when she told him she could go easy on him. Of course, that was before she realized that most of his crimes left him with a life sentence anyway.

"You can tell us anything," she said to the kid. "We might even be able to work out a deal if you comply."

"A deal, huh?" said the kid. "Alright." He sat forward. "It was somebody else. They hired me to do it. And the one before that."

"How much did they pay you?" Lisbon asked.

"Ten thousand," smiled the prisoner.

"So, you wanna tell us who hired you?"

"No."

Lisbon blinked. "Why not?"

He didn't say anything. Lisbon nodded to Mira, who returned the nod and sat up straighter, calling up one of those smiles meant to… well, as Rudy would have worded it, "charm his socks off."

"You see, your compliance is necessary. We don't want to have to resort to sterner measures. I am certain you do not wish for us to do either. You are, after all, a wise young man, are you not?"

He didn't say anything.

"Am I to interpret that as a _no_, sir?" Mira inquired.

He shrugged.

"A no to your compliance or a no to your intelligence?"

He didn't make a sound or move a muscle.

Mira leaned back in her chair. "Oh, well, surely you don't wish to leave that question open to our own impressions?"

He blinked at her.

She traded glances with Lisbon, who shrugged. Mira's face gave nothing away, and she turned back to the kid, her previous smiles and charm gone, replaced with a sort of cool determination that Jane could see even through the glass. He spared a glance at Rudy, who stood still beside him. The young man was enthralled, but whether it was by Mira herself, or by seeing is first FBI interrogation, he couldn't quite tell.

"I don't believe you understand the gravity of the situation," Mira said. "We have, secure in our possession, enough evidence of your underhanded endeavors to have your presence permanently installed in incarceration…. by your own hand, I might add. And, I assure you, no one will feel so inclined as to effect your emancipation."

The prisoner's glare turned to a look of confusion.

"We have enough evidence to lock you up for life, thanks to you. If you talk about what we want to hear now, you might make it easier on yourself," Lisbon translated, shooting a look in Mira's direction.

Mira shook her head. "Agent Lisbon, I am merely attempting to assist in the dear boy's education."

Lisbon sent her "Jane glare" in Mira's general direction. "And I'm trying to do my job efficiently without shooting you."

Mira sat back in her chair, smiled an odd little half smile, and looked down at her hands as she clasped them in her lap. "Duly noted," was all she said.

On the other side of the two-way glass, Jane grinned and leaned back in his chair.

This was going to be worth watching.

"What's stopping you from just telling us what we need to know?" Lisbon asked evenly.

"You already said I could make it easy on myself, and it just got me life," said the kid.

"That doesn't answer the question," Lisbon pointed out. "You're probably already facing life, it can't get worse. You have nothing to lose."

"Maybe I just don't wanna sell out my pals," the young prisoner said.

"Ah. Honor among thieves, of course. What is it that causes you to uphold the proverb so… thoroughly?" Mira asked.

"None of the your business," the prisoner growled.

"That it is not," Mira agreed. "My suspicions, however, are quite my own, and on that turn, I intend to prove myself useful."

"How do you figure on that?"

Mira smiled. "Someone threatened you. If you tell, if you become the weak link in the chain of evil, you-" she poked the young man in the chest- "may very well be eradicated. Permanently silenced."

The young man blinked.

"Of course," Mira went on, "they may accomplish nothing of any degree of success as long as you remain safely behind your respective bars." She hadn't been looking at the prisoner, rather at her lap. Now she raised her eyes. "You need not have fear," she drawled. "You'll not walk if you tell us," she chuckled. "You'll only walk back into your captivity, at least."

The prisoner shook his head, but remained silent.

Lisbon moved to get up, sweeping the folders on the metal table into a neat pile.

"A moment, Agent Lisbon," Mira said, placing a stilling hand on Lisbon's arm, without taking her eyes from the prisoner.

Jane had to smile, as Lisbon huffed in annoyance, brushed the hand off her arm with slightly more force than necessary, and sat down again, eyeing Mira with a scowl.

Yep, that was his Lisbon.

"Who is she?"

The young man stared at Mira. "Who?" he echoed.

Jane saw what Mira saw in that same moment. His observation had been delayed, since he was watching the side of the man through the glass. Well, actually because he was watching Lisbon more than the man. After all, any chance to study Lisbon without her being aware was a chance to be taken. She was beautiful, and the longer he got to look, the more he loved her. But, he really needed to stop thinking these things at work, he added silently, stifling a smirk. He rallied his thoughts again.

The young prisoner's silence was out of fear. He'd not responded to assurances of his own life. He didn't have a good family relationship (it was in his whole demeanor) and he was obviously straight, so he was in fear for a woman, probably a romantic interest.

"Who is this lovely lady, whose life your compatriots have endangered?" Mira clarified.

The kid was silent for a minute, then he looked her in the eye and said, "Her name is Rose Anderson, and if anybody lays a hand on my fiance` then I will tear him apart myself."

"Well! There you are, Agent Lisbon," Mira grinned, jumping up and moving towards the door. "A reason. Now, you can arrange something with the kid, I have business to attend to, such as a hot shower, dinner and bed, not necessarily in that order. Perhaps Patrick would like a go?" And with that, she was gone, leaving Lisbon to stare after her in puzzlement.

She walked out into the observation area, and offering a ladylike nod to each of the men she found there, she swept out with a cordial, "Goodnight, gentlemen."

Jane chuckled and pushed himself out of his chair, glancing to Rudy, who still stood staring. "Well, kid, I'm going in. Keep watching," he said, giving the younger man a pat on the shoulder and heading into the room.

He walked in and sat down next to Lisbon. He stuck out his hand. "Hi. I'm Patrick Jane."

The kid eyed him warily for a moment and said, "Hi. I'm Johnny."

"Nice to meet you," Jane said. There was a very awkward silence. "What would you do if I said nothing will happen to Rose?"

"How can I be sure?"

"I give you my word." Jane said solemnly.

The kid stared at him for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. "I believe you. But how're you gonna do that?"

"We'll place her in protective custody," Jane said seriously, knowing they wouldn't be doing quite that. "Where is she?"

"Jane!" hissed Lisbon. He ignored her.

"1525 North Eagle Road," the young prisoner sighed. "Watch out for her Daddy. He's a good shot."

Jane grinned at that. "I'll bet. Has he ever shot at you?"

He nodded. "Yeah, almost every time I go there. Says I'm not good enough for her."

"Are you?" Jane asked.

"Nope. Nobody is. She's too good for it to be fair. She must've seen something good in me, 'cause she always tells me I'm really a good guy, but I guess I went and disappointed her." He sighed again. "They said they was gonna kill her if I didn't do it."

Jane nodded sympathetically. "Yes, that must have been a very hard decision to make."

"Sure was," agreed Johnny. It was so hard for Jane to connect the face and name in his head. The kid just didn't look like a Johnny. He looked like a kid.

"But you did it to keep her safe, right?" added Jane.

He shook his head. "She'd tell me I was wrong. She'd say their lives were worth more than hers, and I know she'd sacrifice herself for 'em. Hell, she'd do it for me. I don't even deserve her looking at me, and she says she loves me." He shook his head. "She's too good for it to be fair." he said again.

"I've known some people like that," Jane admitted.

"But I couldn't do it. Couldn't just say, 'go ahead and kill her', ya know?" He shrugged. "Maybe it was wrong by the law, but it was all for her, even if she wouldn't appreciate it."

Jane nodded again. "I know what you mean." He leaned for in a conspiratorial fashion. "So, uh, bet you'd like to get revenge in these guys, huh?"

"Sure would," the kid agreed. "Can't do nothing, though, stuck in here forever, and all."

"Yeah, that stings," agreed Jane. He allowed a silence for a moment, and then he said, "So, if you could go and get revenge on them, what would you do?"

He thought a moment. "Couldn't kill 'em. Rose'd say that's wrong. Reckon she's right. Have to punch 'em a couple of times, tell 'em it was a warning." He sat up a little straighter. "I'd tell 'em nobody threatens Rose and gets away with it. Rose Anderson's the best person in the whole world, and if anybody tried to hurt her, I'd break outta prison to stop 'em."

"So, you'd just rough them up, and give them a lecture?" Jane prompted.

"Sure," said the kid, who was now on a roll. "Just march right into that stupid cafe and say, 'Sorry folks, place it closed now, get on out!' and then we'd been all alone in there and I'd use their sorry hides to mop the place."

"Just walk right into that cafe and do it, huh?"

"Yup." He returned. "Might even take down that dumb sign. Stupid name for a cafe anyhow."

"You think so?" Jane asked.

"Yeah," scoffed the young man. "They don't even put cafes on side streets. Not much business."

"True, very true," Jane said. "So you think Sidestreet Cafe is a dumb name?"

"Yeah, it is," said the kid.

"Who owns that dump, anyway?" asked Jane.

The young prisoner snorted. "That loser Joe Miller…" he trailed off as he realized he'd just pretty much told them where to go and what to expect when they got there.

He sat back. "I ain't talking no more, unless it's to Rose."

Jane nodded, smiling. "Understandable." he waved to the young man, standing with Lisbon at the same time. "Nie talking to you." And with that, they were gone, out the door to report their findings, and regroup so they'd have a plan tomorrow.

As they walked out to the car, Lisbon kept a close eye on the side of Jane that she could see without actually turning to gawk at him. He looked pensive. Or rather, he didn't look like anything- he had effectively hidden all semblance of his emotions. This usually meant he was either obsessed, or pensive. She knew that the constant obsession was over. That left pensive.

She also knew the case had to be taking its toll on him. How would she expect him to react... seeing, essentially, he wife and daughter murdered all over again. Not just once- no, several times, in the course of a month. That was just… cruel. Unbelievably cruel.

She didn't really know what he was experiencing. He had appeared, outwardly anyway, to be perfectly normal. Even at home- after work, and on the weekends, which had been spent mostly around Lisbon's new apartment. Of course, she knew he couldn't be. This had to be bringing old demons to the front. The only thing was, she didn't know what kind.

She tried to think back over the last couple of weeks- when the random killing started, the part Jane and Mira had labeled "crimes of passion" where the killers deviated from the plan and began using decimals for the rounds.

Wait a minute. Jane and Mira.

He'd almost spent more time with Mira than with her, at least around work. He'd been avoiding Lisbon.

Why?

Maybe so he could hide something from her. Such as…. his feelings. Of course, that had to be it. She knew Jane better than anyone, and everyone did include Mira. She wasn't really sure what she thought of Mira, but she did know that she was on the outside looking in, for the most part, where Patrick Jane was concerned. At least now. Mira had told her she'd been Jane's "best friend" but she didn't see it in their interactions.

Regardless, she'd notice if the case was getting to him. She'd have to have him taken off the case if it were so, or at least report to Abbot. Unless, of course, she was outsmarted.

They climbed into Lisbon's car and drove to their apartment, following the usual routine. Jane cooked dinner, Lisbon took a shower, they ate at Lisbon's new dining room table, and then settled in on the couch for the evening.

This was when Lisbon figured he'd had enough time inside his head, and she scooted closer to him, until he put an arm around her.

"Can I ask you something?" she said, after a moment of silence, except for the blaring TV.

"Of course," he said, looking at her.

"Do you want to talk about the case?" she asked.

"No," he said.

Lisbon blinked. Well, she hadn't expected that.

"Honestly, Teresa. It's just- not something I want to talk about right now. Maybe later." he said softly.

She sighed. She knew she couldn't pressure him, and he needed time. This was how he dealt with things. Heck, she wasn't exactly an open book either… Pot to Kettle, Hello, as Rigsby would've said.

So, now there was a slightly awkward silence. Desperate to break it, she said the first conversational thing that came to her mind."What's with Conlon and Mira?"

"What do you mean?" Jane said, in some puzzlement.

Well, okay, not the best thing to fill an awkward silence with, but she couldn't take it back now.

"Well, you know," Lisbon said vaguely. "They're acting like… like…"

"Correction. Mira isn't acting like anything. It's Rudy who's acting different."

"So you know what I mean?" Lisbon said, in wonder. She was sure that even Jane wouldn't quite get what she was talking about. Somehow, when you put the two in a room together, something…. happened. Mostly, it happened to Conlon… or Rudy, as Jane called him. When had he gotten on a first-name basis with the rookie FBI Agent? She'd have to ask him later, she mused.

"Of course. Everyone's noticed. Some think it's because he's getting used to being an FBI agent." Jane said.

"I guess it could be," agreed Lisbon.

"Still, there's a lot of reasons for him to act differently." Jane added.

Ah, maybe that was her open. The least she could do was get off the subject of Rudy. She liked the man and all, but she didn't want to have late night discussions about him in her living room…. with Jane, of all people.

"He's not the only one who's been acting differently," she said.

"Really? Who else is?" Jane said.

"You."

"Me?"

"You."

Jane blinked at her, and then grinned. "Why Lisbon, are you saying I'm different?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. I have to ask this, Patrick, I'm sorry, but I love you and I want to know these things."

"What things?" he asked carefully.

"Is this case getting to you?" She asked gently. "Because if it is, I need to know."

He looked away from her, but after a moment he sighed and looked back at her again. "I just don't know how many more innocent people's deaths I can cause, Teresa."

"Patrick. Hey, look at me."

He looked after a moment or two.

"It is not your fault, do you hear me? It's not. You're not responsible for the murders of the world. Just because they sent you a note or two, it doesn't make you the cause. Okay?" Lisbon was pretty sure they'd had similar conversations about his family, so she knew it probably wouldn't help, but she couldn't _not_ protest his irrational guilt complexes.

He glanced down at his lap. "Okay." She almost couldn't hear the quiet-voiced response.

"No one blames you but yourself. And it's silly, and I want you to stop it." She continued firmly.

He nodded. "I just wish I knew why. At least Red John told me why. These people…" he let the sentence trail off.

Lisbon smiled a little and nodded. "I wish I knew too. We'll figure it out."

He didn't say anything after that, and Lisbon didn't know what to do with the conversation after that, either.

"Um…. if you need anything, you know, I'm here."

"Yeah. I know." he glanced up at her with a tentative smile. "You're always here, Teresa."

Lisbon smiled and looked away, uncomfortable with the compliment.

He reached out a finger and turned her face towards him. "I love you," he said, and then gave her a chaste kiss.

When he pulled back, Lisbon, smiling, leaned back against the couch. They sat in silence.

Finally, she said, "So… do you think Rudy will take Mira out on a date?"

Jane chuckled. "I doubt he'd…" his sentence trailed off as he stared at Lisbon, and a slow grin spread across his face.

"What?" Lisbon said, worried about the sudden mood swing.

"That's it!" he exclaimed.

"What's what?" Lisbon said, her bewilderment obvious.

"That's how we can find out more about the motives for the threats." Jane grinned.

"Jane, you're not making any sense."

"Rudy needs to take Mira on a date! We can send them undercover!"

Lisbon blinked. "Undercover where? How?"

Jane just grinned and shook his head. "You'll see, and you'll love it. Trust me." with that, he jumped up and headed for her bedroom. "Want to join me in bed?" he asked.

She snorted, but stood up anyway. "Lead the way, Mr. Magician," she said dryly."

"You'll know all in due time, Lisbon," Jane assured her, "all in due time."

Lisbon just rolled her eyes, and followed after him. "I hate surprises, Patrick," she groaned, but she was smiling. This was the 'old Jane'm and was loving every minute of it...

In secret, of course.

**A/N: A tad cliffhanger-y, I know. Seven is coming, promise, no matter how slow! Don't give up on me! :)**


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